


Serious Matters

by JennaMoon



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU- No Powers, Alpha Steve Rogers, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Inspired by the Handmaid's Tale, M/M, Omega Tony Stark, Omega Verse, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-16 03:23:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaMoon/pseuds/JennaMoon
Summary: Tony is just a tool for his father's business to succeed. He has known that since he was a small child. Facts, however, do not always remain so.





	1. Rhodey

In a world that is designed to keep you in your place, how do you succeed in being different?

When I was younger, my fifth birthday to be precise, I was made to undergo the first stages of becoming what, at the time, was expected of me. The cloth had been soaked in lavender infused stream water, sourced from the mouth of the river Fern, six miles north of my settlement. The material, a light blue I think, had been treated and stretched and wrapped and stretched again by my mother’s staff, so that they would give me the perfect waist in years to come. It was an honour, my mother had told me as I sobbed openly at the feeling of my body being squeezed and packaged into the itchy, damp confines of the cloth. An honour.

It was all part of the process. An Omega, after all, must follow all processes. The very social system in which we all live depends on Omegas going to good Alphas. And Omegas must be suitable for good Alphas, though what makes an Alpha ‘good’ is merely a thing of birth, anyway. That was the issue, it seemed; Alphas stayed in their social standing, Omegas could work their way up. Certainly, the highest honour would be the role of Wife to an important Alpha. Alphas were allowed to be important. An Omega was only as important as its aesthetic. Which is why I was tightened and squeezed and put through _agony_ for eleven years of my life.

Before my fifth birthday, the roles you are made to take do not matter. Why would a young Omega worry about the circumference of their waist when the entire world was there for endless exploration? Alphas get more time to live in their fantasy worlds, however; Alphas have to grow before they can take on their roles as protectors and providers. ‘Become a soldier, keep your neighbours safe’. That is what the recruiters would say, attracting young Alphas towards it.

I wonder now if it was instead the promise of whisky and whores that really got the Alphas attracted to becoming soldiers? There certainly wasn’t any other benefits to the work; that was, of course, unless you were high ranking.

Like he was. My Alpha. But that’s for later.

This isn’t his story, anyway. It’s mine. And I’m not prepared to give him the limelight constantly.

Being an Omega left a certain… feeling of dismay between my father and me. Especially since it became apparent my mother would not be able to carry any more children. I was prayed, begged, wished for by my mother and father. The maids have told me that my father would spend hours on his knees praying to the Goddess of Fertility to bless my Omega mother who until my miracle conception had been failing her one apparent purpose in life. Oh, the irony that comes with making a wish. The Gods will always punish you for committing such a sin as asking.

My father needed an heir to keep the family fortunes, the prestige that comes with being a Stark. A strong Alpha who would no doubt keep the family name and traditions and power alive. An Omega is a disgrace to the family name – worth only what extra power a marriage can bring. And that is what I became, the moment the doctor inspected by newly born nakedness and declared that I was an Omega.

I can imagine it in my head, exactly how it would have happened. The satisfied smirk shown through the corners of an upturned lip, eyes narrowed as if calculating the amount of newly added prestige, nostrils flared from the stench of my mother’s gushing body, still in the midst of delivering the afterbirth, the fists clenched as if to punch the sky or punch the doctor. Hair a mess from the heat of the room, masses of the humid warmth swelling from my mother’s stretched belly.

‘An Omega.’

Such a simple statement, really. A gender, an announcement, turned such as prideful moment like the one my father was experiencing into a moment of pain and agony. Shame.

The smirk fading into a thick frown that allowed the curves of the moustache to frame the downward snarl of his dry lips. Eyes widening in shock, as to process the piece of information that he had previously thought to be impossible, then closing in despair. The family name would end at him, the Omega child would require so much more maintenance and protection… the ability to feel pride died inside my father that day. Howard Stark, genius Alpha, father of an only-child Omega. How he must have wished the world pitied him that day!

It is uncommon for an Alpha to shun an Omega child. It is their duty to protect their offspring and Alphas within a village or community often work together to achieve ultimate protection for the Omegas. Precious cargo, after all. Omega children let rich men get even more rich and poor men get a taste of what it means to be rich. Somehow, through the disappointment that came with my gender, he failed to establish the initial paternal connection needed for our relationship to exist. The only emotions that flood through my heart on the rare occasion we must make eye contact are dread and pity. Dread for who he will sell me to on my 18th Birthday. Pity for the man driven to drink and death despite having everything.

Other Alphas the village have taken to drink in the past. Most lose everything and are kicked out of their communities. I wish my father wasn’t the anomaly to that pattern.

At the age of five, when the world is still big and bold and scary, you are taken to the Match Maker. Usually a Beta. Match Makers are important in the process of finding suitable mates. They’re all connected, or so I was told when I was younger, by magical forces that allows them to find perfect matches for Alphas and Omegas, although I’ve always thought that the matching process is swayed more by money and bribery compared to anything else.  You see, there is often an age difference between the Alpha, who must have time to earn money, establish their career and build/buy a house, and the Omega, who must be sold as early as possible, since this is the only known way to make the most profit out of one.

At the age of five, I was poked and prodded and wrapped up tight so that I might achieve a size 23 waist at the age of sixteen. Most Match Makers work with the family for life, but the old, haggard woman with breath like sour milk and whiskers that belonged on a dying cat died when I was 10. It was then her granddaughter, only six years my elder, who took over the position. I was her first client, and she tutted in shame when she first saw the tender flesh under the five-year-old cloth wrapping.

“Has Tony not taken to the binding, Miss Potts?” My mother called out in concern from where she lounged on her parlour chair. White, soft, consistently re-upholstered. She loved that chair.

“The contrary, Madam Stark.” The sad, sympathetic tone made the hair on my skin stick up; kindness was something rare between myself and strangers, especially in my youth. Whether the cause was my gender or name, I am not certainly sure. It might have been a dark, sickly amalgamation of both now that I reflect back on it all. Virginia Potts rubbed a soft finger down the tender flesh of my inner waist, causing me to mewl from sensitivity. There was a pointed look towards my mother, who let out a distinctively maternal cluck. “Do you suffer from damp spots, Madam Stark?”

“Why yes… But don’t worry about that. It is the sign of well-taking to the binds.” My mother waved her hand in the air flittingly, eyes rolling in a whimsical manner with a bright smile. I watched her perform for Virginia, letting out a quiet sigh in relief as my lungs took in air that I did not I had been declining them. She petted my shoulders comfortingly.

“Madam Stark, I believe that I have a much better method that will stop the skin from becoming dry, blotchy and irritated. It will certainly prove to be far less painful than what the wet rag-

“I do not use rags, Miss Potts. Only the finest of ga-“

“With all due respect, Madam, all cloth used prove to be nothing more than strips of cut-away clothing from far finer, more beautiful clothing. There is a reason I have been entrusted with such a position so early in my life and I would appreciate if you would perhaps install a little bit of trust in me. For your son’s sake more than my own, may I add.” She ran the monologue with precision and a short-cutting tongue that only served to further drag the point across to my mother’s narrowed vision of life. I could tell she had spoken those words more or less the same before. No wonder she had become a Match Maker at 16. She proved to be persistent enough to become one.

“Hmm. Very well, young Miss Potts. Explain what new methods you have invented to take place of such a tradition. I am certain they will be delightful.”

Her hand left my shoulder and I keened at the loss of such a comforting touch. Virginia walked over to the bag she had bought with her and took out a light yellow box, decorated with a lime green bow on the top.  She handed it to me, with a kind smile. “Happy birthday, Anthony.”

I looked up at her, shocked. I wasn’t often on the receiving side of gifts. Why give a gift to somebody who could have everything they would ever need or, more importantly, want? My father let me entertain myself mostly, and allowed the staff to take me to the shopping district. I owned one of everything an Omega was allowed to play with, even a few Alpha-designed toys that were kept away under the stairs.

I enjoyed the paper dolls and the paper clothes that allowed me to play dress-up. I enjoyed the wooden prince and the wooden princess that lived in a wooden castle and rode on wooden horses, all delicately painted by the finest artists my father could hire. I enjoyed the felt babies that I mothered and placed in little material cots I made by the one present I loved more than anything.

Alphas are encouraged to take up manual professions, especially those who are lower class and therefore will not be expected to do well or even take up educational studies. One such profession Alphas are encouraged to take up is woodworking. Hammers, nails, saws, all on the hefty wooden work bench.

I fell in love with the idea of making my own wooden prince and princess and castle and horses. Dara, the maid who was with me, was young and seemed to hold the ideals most young people do, until it is beaten or married out of you. Had bought it for me and paid two teenage Alphas to carry it to the house. My mother was out, and my father was probably drunk in bed, so nobody was able to spot us and tell us what was wrong. I was eight at the time, and not particularly attractive at that age. I had grown, and my body had not caught up. I was nothing more than a strange distortion of youth and lankiness that was merely an embarrassment at that age.

One of the Alphas who helped carry the forbidden toy was a dark-skinned 13 year old who I recognised from the soldier marches that took place once a month. James Rhodes? That seemed right. He was a cadet, top of his year’s class. He’d make a fine soldier, if he carried on the way he had been. Perfect for a young middle-class Omega.

He smiled at me, toothy and wide. I felt embarrassed at that smile. He was a handsome boy, small muscles forming, ready to take shape into Alphahood. He and the other Alpha, a 15 year old named Maria who was, in all accounts, quite terrifying, placed the workbench and accessories in the middle of my room. Dara paid the two and sent them on their way.

Maria gave a polite nod and left quickly.

James Rhodes stayed behind, waiting until Dara had gone back to the kitchen before appearing back in my room. I had been admiring the new gift, inspecting the nails. They felt dull and heavy in my hand, mothing like the shining steel that were fastened tightly into my bedroom wall. It didn’t bother, though; they felt so different to the wooden toys and the felt toys and the paper toys that I had been surrounded by all my life.

I was sorting out the workbench when James Rhodes walked back into my room. My nostrils flared. An Alpha? I turned quickly, ready to run. I was met with a nervous smile and an open hand. “Hello.” He said softly.

I looked at his hand confused. What was he trying to do, this young Alpha? He worked for my father, it’s as if he could get away with stealing or hurting me. I let out a hum.

“Ugh, Master Stark?” I made eye contact with him. He looked friendly, with brown pools that wanted me to swim in them. “I work f-“

“My father, I know… what’s that got to do with you being in my room?”

He looked like he’d offended me, which I hadn’t. I could use it to my advantage, though. I took a step backwards, away from him.

“Forgive me, it’s just…” he pointed at the workshop “Your father won’t like to see this in here.” He tilted his head to the side, letting out a low chuckle. “You were organising it? That’s good. Afterall, a good workspace is-“

“A tidy workspace.” I finished the saying for him, my bottom lip sticking out in defiance. “So you’re here to tell me not to play with it? That’s unfair.”

It was only to be expected; Alphas wouldn’t want an Omega to play with something so potentially dangerous. But I wasn’t his Omega, and I certainly wasn’t going to allow him to tell me what to do. He wasn’t my Alpha.

“No, not at all! I don’t want you getting into trouble, Master Stark. You gotta hide it so that he doesn’t see.” What? I was taken aback by this explanation. He had sneaked in my room to… make sure I wasn’t in trouble? This certainly was odd behaviour. “I can move it somewhere else for ya. Where he won’t go. Like… in a cupboard or a sewing room or-“

“Under the stairs!” I exclaimed in suggestion; under the stairs that led upwards to the attic space, which was also my father’s personal work space, was filled with my old toys and clothing from when I was a toddler. It was a wide space with a slanted roof and room for one candle holder. It would be the perfect place for a secret workshop. And far better than having my father find it angrily confront me and Dara about it. She would lose her position and I would lose yet more respect from my father for not even being able to fulfil the requirements set out for Omegas. Un-Omega activity was punishable by imprisonment or in some cases death, since it was unlawful.

I showed a slightly perplexed James Rhodes the room under the stairs, and felt some sort of pride bulge in my stomach at the satisfied expression that came upon the young Alpha’s face. He was pleased with my suggestion.

“Wow, this is perfect.” He said in a hushed tone. “Good thinking, Tony- ugh, Master Stark…”

“You can call me Tony, it’s oka-“

“Tony. I’m James Rhodes… you can call me Rhodey though. All my friends call me Rhodey.”

“So, I’m a friend now?” I wondered what the logistics of what would be. Friends with one of my father’s employees? It seemed laughable. My father would have struck him and fired him with no character reference if he had known that this conversation had taken place under the stairs to his office, Rhodey in the house without consent and helping me set up something entirely illegal. My mother would have fainted.

It was dangerous business, making friends with Alphas.

Rhodey did all the work himself, moving my old toys and clothing out of the room and pushing and shoving the heavy workbench into the room. He even set up a small sitting area for me, where I sat and watched him, petting the wraps around my waist absently.

“So, what do you do all day, Tony?”

“Play and take lessons.”

“Can you read and write?”

A small, well-settled silence. “Can you?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes. Mother says it’s bad to rub education in the face of the less privileged.” Rhodey let out a scoff and I sudden felt a little bit foolish.

“I’m not anyway near less privileged than others who live in the village, Tony Stark.” He commented lightly, shaking his head at me. “I’m a good cadet, I have a good job and one day I’ll join the army.”

“Or you need to work extra hard and maybe my dad will give you a really good job.” I said to him. There was another silence, this one carrying with it a sort of awkwardness. Rhodey looked down, a sad expression on his face. He then looked at me.

“That won’t happen, Tony.” He said gently.

“Why not?”

“Because he gives them to the men who- Aw damn, do you really not know?”

I really did not know. My confused expression must have been visible, because Rhodey visibly winced. “Tony, your dad makes sure that the only people who get good jobs are wealthy and healthy and are Alphas.”

“You’re two of those things, though, I could get my mothe-“

“That is not how it works. I- Tony, he wants to make sure that your Alpha is suitable to look after the business… when you’re older, he’ll… he’ll choose your Alpha and then your Alpha will decide to… I better go.” He looked sorry for me. I’ve learnt to hate that look. An Alpha’s look of pity, reserved for poor Omegas who are too dumb to understand the situations they’re in.

“Why?”

“Because if your Pa finds out I’m here, then I’ll be toast and you’ll be in trouble to. I don’t want you to be in trouble.”

“Oh. I understand that. Okay, if you have to go…”

“Show me what you build, Tony. I’ll come again when your father is out of the village on business. Show me what you build.” He ruffled me hair then. It was the first time anybody had ever done that to me. I felt the warmth radiating off his hand, the callouses on his fingers, the heavy weight of the gesture.

I had a friend.

Suddenly the workbench meant so much more. ‘ _Show me what you build, Tony.’_ I had a request.

I ran to the window to see Rhodey glide down the lawn and around the corner, assumedly back to his other Alpha friends. My heart felt light and hot and wobbly, and I smiled to myself. “Rhodey.”

Oh Rhodey.   

My greatest friend.


	2. Pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony makes a new friend and celebrates his tenth birthday in an interesting fashion.

_‘Happy birthday, Anthony.’_

The pale-yellow box with the lime green bow looked expensive, something my mother would have imported from a big town, miles away. I felt like it would be wrong to open it up; as if this was all just a test. Match Makers would, at times, put forth scenarios just like this as a way to find out if young Omegas were greedy, or selfish, or in any other way ‘unsuitable’.

There were many ways that an Omega could be called ‘unsuitable’. Too fat. Too tall. Too something or other. I knew that I did not want to be classed as unsuitable but sometimes the sacrifices did not seem fair. My mother acted as the absolute authority in my youth when it came to my unsuitable activities. She never found out about the workbench, since I was apparently blessed a higher force that stopped her from acknowledging the existence of the room under the stairs to my father’s office.

Virginia was staring at me expectantly, a young smile on her face. I felt like she might have understood the inner battle I was facing by being offered a present. She turned to my mother.

“Madam Stark, I would love it if Tony was able to accept my gift.” She said graciously. My mother nodded with the familiar roll of the eyes and grandiose wave. Another performance for her to show how gracious she is.

I undo the lime green bow, letting it fall to the floor. My mother tuts; no doubt she will pick up the fabric, wrap it around and around her index and middle finger on her left hand and place it in her sewing room. She’d use it in a dress for a gala or a ball or one of Father’s at-home business meetings, where she is expected to hand out drinks and appetisers and kneel at Father’s side, head on his lap.

Trembling hands, my own, remove the lid from the box. Inside, red tissue was visible. I removed it slowly. Inside I could feel silk. I pulled it out, and see the pearl-laced cream of the main bodice, folded and sewn over sprung steel boning that felt so stiff under the feathered cushioning between the boning and the silk. I pull it out completely, looking at the checkerboard pattern of cream and white, cream and white. It was virginal in appearance, though I felt as if though the garment would look equally nice in any other colour, like red or orange or blue. Once I was married then the wider range of clothing would be acceptable.

My mother scrutinised it with a fierce look. I liked it, but had to give the impression that she wasn’t quite so sure. “And this is what you say will help Tony?”

“If it does not, Madam Stark, then we shall wrap Tony up in the rags and keep to tradition.” As my mother spoke Virginia grabbed my arm and pulled me up. She had been prepared to do this, I know she had.

Virginia was so confident, I tilted my head to the side in confusion. She

“I shall help him, Madam Stark.” She gave as an explanation. “Show me your room, Tony.”

I smiled, enjoying the opportunity I now had to show off my room. I know now that the size of one’s bed or the plumpness of one’s pillow is not an accurate or correct method of identifying one’s happiness or contentedness in life. It was a hard lesson to learn, however.

Virginia acted as if my possession were wonderous antiques that had been retrieved from a sunken ship. I knew she was faking the smiles when I showed her my collection of finely painted horses and cream-coloured felt bears.

I had a habit of showing off.

She did smile, however, when I showed her my hand mirror. I had made it myself, with help from Rhodey, around a year ago. It was wonky and the paint had been low-quality; Rhodey had stolen from the cadet’s station for me after we agreed that asking for paints would cause an uproar between Dara, my father, my mother and any other shareholders in what was classed as a proper activity for a young Omega to take on.

The mirror had taken weeks to make, even then it had not been made correctly. Sawing wood had to be done at certain times of the day, when my father was not upstairs, where noise travelled. When my mother was outside or at a friend’s house. When Dara was in the village centre or in the kitchen. I found out quite quickly that I could design and visualise what I wanted to create and how the parts would fit together. Actually learning how to bring my ideas to life was the difficult part.

Sawing took time. I feel ashamed at admitting this now, but sawing terrified me at first. Rhodey had to place his hands over mine and steady me as he pulled my body forward and back. _‘Keep it straight, Tony. Good. Yeah, like that! You got it!’_ And then he let go.

I wanted to make him proud. The first piece of wood I cut by myself was rigid and wonky. Rhodey smoothed it with sandpaper for me. I looked like a mutilated love heart.

I gave it to Rhodey, who felt bad about taking it at first. But once I explained why I could not possibly keep it, he understood. To keep it would get me in trouble.

I was slightly perplexed when my mother had reacted so strongly to my drawings when I was around seven. My father had left a pencil and paper on the kitchen side, forgotten during his spitting argument with the Gardener, a young Alpha who I remember stealing roses from the garden for any Omega that took his fancy. I had fun, clumsily holding a pencil and drawing little marching stick figures.

My Auntie Peg, she taught me how to read and write, how to hold and sustain pressure upon a pencil that swooped up and down, left and right until I had written a sentence.

The sentence of course being something so simple, so easy that now I yearn for the straight forward knowledge and understanding that came with it.

‘ _My Name is Anthony Stark.’_

My name was Anthony Stark.

Now I am the present because the future does not exist. And for the first time in my life, I must go on without the security of the past because that does not matter. Not anymore.

My mother hated the fact Auntie Peg taught me how to read and write. She told Peg that I was not her child, and that if I was then the military would take me away from her and give me to a more deserving Beta family.

She wasn’t allowed to be alone with me then, but the damage had already been done.

I could read and write.

I could teach myself and improve without Auntie Peg.

“Tony, do you remember how the rags felt?” Virginia asked me. I looked at her, nodded.

“They were wet and cold and tight. I struggled to breath in them. Really, today is the first day in ages I feel like…”

“Breathing fully is an option?”

“Yes. Breathing is an option today.” She hummed in agreement, and ran her dutifully painted nails down the present she had given me. She then wrapped it around me, tight. I took in a quick breath, ready to feel my organs shift and deform.

It didn’t happen, however.

It still was constricting and made my waist impossibly small once again, but this time it didn’t feel sore or to too tight, even as she pulled at the stays with a light grunt. The cream colour met nicely with my flesh and I blushed as I caught my expression in the mirror. For the first time, my body appeared attractive to my own eyes.

There were no rags rubbing my skin; all I felt was silk, with the sprung steel boning like a faint memory beneath the padding. It felt luxurious on my flesh.

“Tell me, Tony, do you like it?” Virginia seemed excited, eyes wide as she watched me. I grinned at her, jumping a little on my bare feet.

“I love it, Miss Potts!”

“Oh!” She looked happy at my excitement. “That is good, Tony. I am so glad you like it!” She hugged me, and I hugged her back. She was warm and smelled like Auntie Peg.

“Miss Potts, will it help me get somebody good?” I asked her suddenly, with hushed tones. The pain us Omegas go through is expected to be suffered silently; it is the Alphas and Match Makers that verbalise such things.

I wanted to be given to Rhodey.

Virginia crushed that desire with her quick, joyful response.

“Oh Tony, I’m making sure you get the wealthiest, best Alpha I can find.” She told me with a slight bump on the hip.

“Oh.”

“Oh? Oh, Tony, you need not worry about such things. You are young and not fully developed yet.” She appeared to be laughing at me. I blushed and hid m head in her pale blue sleeve. She stroked my hair. “Do not fear, Tony. I am your Match Maker for life. I hope that we can be friends.”

“Friends?” I titled my head. She chuckled and repeated her previous phrase. I nodded. “Being friends sounds nice, Miss Potts.”

“You may call me Pepper, Tony. Especially if we are friends.”

“Pepper?”

She sensed my confusion. “You are aware of the spice pepper, are you not?” A nod of the head. “Well, my hair is red like a chilli pepper and my temper often times matches it… Though that is only to the ones who deserve it, Tony.” She assured me with another one of her gentle smiles. I tried to mirror it, though I felt as if though it was for show.

My mind, I knew, was still on Rhodey.

“Pepper Potts…” I tried out the name on my tongue. It seemed right, and the longer I glued my gaze upon her face, the even more perfect the pet name seemed.

“We must show your mother.”

She held my hand as she guided me down the stairs, back to the parlour where my mother sat knitting. She looked up from the repetitive craft and gasped.

“My goodness, that is just darling!” She cried resolutely, voice curdled with a sharp sweet twinge that made Pepper squeeze my hand in pure reflex. She met eyes with my mother, who then checked herself dutifully. “Is this certain to train his body into perfection, Miss Potts?” She asked sternly.

Pepper gave a quick nod to the head, smiling easily. “Certainly, Madam Stark. It can be tightened throughout his growth. And can, unlike the rags, be removed for bathing.” She informed my mother, who in turn just nodded in response.

“Then, we’ll see in six months how well it works, Miss Potts. Would you like a cup of tea?” She went to refill Pepper’s tea cup but was stopped with a curt shake of the head.

“I’m afraid not, Madam Stark. I must travel back to the city for a meeting this evening. It has been an absolute pleasure meeting you and Tony.”

“Please, drop by anytime.” My mother said, though she only extended the welcoming offer to Pepper as a form of politeness. I knew she had no intentions of seeing Miss Pepper Potts again until the next check up.

Six months away.

There was a pang in my chest. Pepper didn’t live five minutes away like Rhodey did. She was a city Beta, somebody who was used to busy schedules and busy streets and a busy mind. My mother would not dare allow such influences into my life; it was the very reason she had to make Auntie Peg’s visits fleetingly short and always within her or Dara’s earshot.

Pepper tidied away her books and notes and pencils and thanked my mother with a handshake. I walked her to the door.

“Tony, I will be back in the village again in two weeks. I will pick you up and take you out for the day. How does that sound?”

It sounded amazing. It also sounded like something I couldn’t trust. Another trap, my brain sprung up to the forefront of my mind. I quickly shoved it back with an inwardly huff. Not Pepper. Not when she had already broken many rules regarding what was traditionally expected of both her role and mine.

“My mother wouldn’t…”

“Your mother does not decide. It is your father who does, and once I write to him and tell him that I must get to know you personally as to find you the best match, he will not say no. You mother has no influence over what I do, Tony Stark.” Again. The confidence she displayed, in herself, in her beliefs, in what potential lay in our friendship. So much confidence in me, too, not that I understood at that what having confidence in another human meant.

You do not tend to pay heed to things such as that until it becomes necessary.

“I would love to spend the day with you, Miss Potts.” I told her. I meant it, truly. I wanted to tell her that I wanted to be sold to Rhodey if I had to go to any Alpha at all.

“Then I shall sort it.” She bent down and kissed my cheek kindly. “I shall see you in two weeks, I will send your father the details!” I watched as she walked down the path and turned right, where a horse and cart would probably be waiting to take her back along the two-hour road that led to the city.

I wondered why, since most of my father’s work took place in the city, we did not live there. My mother claimed it was because she couldn’t stand the ‘city air’. My father mentioned something gruffly about the ‘corrupt rebels running amok’. Dara told me in her soft voice that it was really about keeping my ‘unware of the bad things that happen to Omegas’. She had told me that with a knowing smile, before darting back off to the kitchen.

Dara always did that to me; made me feel stupid with vague sentences. She was a nice woman in a lot of ways… but if she could get power, then she would take it.

I did not want to live in the city, anyway. I enjoyed watching the stable hands ride the horses in the morning, the birds building nests in the hedges and trees that were scattered outside my bedroom window. I loved the countryside.

Rhodey was not in the countryside.

It had been two days after Pepper had been to me and my father had gone to the city once more, my mother out to visit other rich Omegas. There was animosity between my Mother and her so-called Omega friends. Everything was a competition. A competition that my mother was bound to win regardless of the any effort put in by the other Omegas because she was richer and therefore better.

I was in my room, wearing a long white skirt and the corset that Pepper gave me. It was Dara who had named it a ‘corset’. Her sister, a skilled seamstress who lived in the city, made them for Match Makers, who then sold them to Omegas for a hefty profit.

“And I bet your father paid an arm and a leg for that one there, little ‘un.” She messed up my hair, causing my hair to stick up in a frizzy mess. I scowled at her.

“Actually,” I began “Miss Potts gave it to me for free.”

“Oh really? How do you know that your father did not just buy if from her beforehand and told her to gift it to you?”

I simply stuck my tongue out at her and left.

It had only been two days since Pepper had come into my life, but I wanted to impress her. I did not have much to offer, besides my natural talent for woodwork and the possibility of making her quite a lot of money if she found a good enough Alpha for me.

The corset was an excellent birthday gift and I felt glad to own it. I tried my hardest to ignore the seeds of doubt that Dara had placed in my head. My father would not know that such things existed, surely?

He never took to notice of the changes that occurred in the lives of Omegas until he was too late.

My body had begun to develop, curves setting in as my hips swelled out. I often discovered slick on my drawers, from the budding birth canal that lay hidden underneath my penis. I had not touched it. Mother had scared me into staying away from it. But sometimes it felt hot and bothered me until I rubbed my thighs together for friction. It felt good.

I still never touched it at that age. I was too afraid that some monster would eat me if I attempted to stroke to prod the passageway to my womb.

I would not develop breasts until pregnant, even then that would be due to swelling from the production of milk, due to my male physical build. Part of me felt glad about this part of my body. Dara’s breasts were large, and as a Beta, she would not be given the courtesy given to Omega women. Men ogled her in the streets, sometimes saying lewd things.

Dara took it in her pride, though. She took a lot of things in her pride.

Still, my ten-year-old brain wondered what life with breasts would be like. The corset was designed for the male body-type and did not come with breast cups. I wriggled the corset down slightly to give easier access to my chest, and pushed the minuscule amount of fat behind my nipples together.

It looked pathetic; I knew that. Dejected, I quickly allowed the fat to snap back into place and pulled the corset up for decency.

I sat on my bed, pouting.

The door opened. “Go away, Da-“

“Is that how to greet friends, Tony?” There was the easy going tone I had grown to love. Rhodey! “Happy belated birthday, Tony.”

I hugged him tightly. The fourteen-year-old smiled and ruffled my hair. He had a sack slung over his shoulder, and I gazed at him in anticipation.

“Close your eyes, Tony.” Rhodey ordered gently. I obeyed immediately, hands held out.

I felt a box in my hands, and smiled. “You can open your eyes now, Tony.” I did so. The present was wrapped in newspaper and string. It looked scruffy, but who was I to complain about that at the time? My hand did quick work with opening the gift as I rested in on my legs. The newspaper fell out easily and the string followed. The box inside was a soft pink, and I looked up at Rhodey in slight confusion.

“The present is inside the box, silly.” He cooed at me. I flushed red and opened the box. Another box was resting inside. I tried not to look hurt as I took it out and opened it.

Another, smaller, blue box.

“I-Is this a joke?” I simpered. Rhodey looked worried.

“Hey, hey, it’s a joke, Tones. Keep goin’, you’ll find the gift. C’mon. For me?” He added the question on so endearingly, who was I to refuse my one true love?

I opened the box. Another box. Opened the box. Another box. I wanted to sob at this point.

“Tony!”

“O-okay…”

I opened up the tiny yellow box. Inside that box was, to my relief and dread, a small silver ring lay on a decorative pink pillow.

“What?” I looked confused. Rhodey smiled nervously.

“It’s a promise ring.” Rhodey whispered to me gently, taking it out the box. It shone in the light, as Rhodey inspected it. It looked smooth and delicate. A promise ring. I did not understand what a promise ring was at that age. Rhodey went on one knee and I felt my face flush deeper. He took a hold of my hand.

“Tony, you’re amazing. And smart and you know words I do not and you can do anything you want… and you’re trapped her. You don’t feel it now ‘cause you’re young and they keep you away from everyone. But they wanna ship you to some old rich man who will not care about you or your brains.” A tear ran down his cheek. I opened my mouth to speak but he shook his head.

He was not finished.

“If you were mine, your Pa could keep his company and his money. It don’t matter to me. But I’d take your workbench and give you as much paper and as many pencils as I could get. Because you are genius. The plans you made for the rotating apple carts worked, Tony. I had to take the credit and it made me feel dirty. I got the ring with the money your dad paid me.”

I stared at the ring.

“Run away with me. Not right now ‘cause I can’t provide you with anything. But I’ve been researching and when you turn sixteen I can mate you and we can run away together and get an elopement. We’ll live in a cottage and we’ll build together. I’ll hunt for food and money and you can sell what we make.”

It was a fantasy. A mad, wild fantasy.

And strangely enough, I could imagine it like the fire in the hearth in our cottage was giving off real heat. The freshly caught rabbit sizzling away as I curled into Rhodey’s side, maybe pregnant.

He smiled at me encouragingly. “I promise it’ll work, Tones, I’ll make it work.”

I nod slightly, before letting out a quick breath.

“A promise ring?”

“Yes, Tony. A promise ring.” He confirmed, laughing slightly.

“Rhodey, I- “

“I love you, Tony.”

And that was it. I pushed myself off the bed and kissed James Rhodes, the dark-skinned servant cadet who worked for my father and was breaking almost every law possible just by being in my room and telling me his scheme.

He seemed stunned, and took a second before wrapping his arms around my waist. My waist, the cause of it all. My eyes closed and so did his, an eclecticism of textures and feelings and thoughts passing both of us.

I wanted to mate James Rhodes. My Rhodey. The only Alpha who would offer me safety. I needed to mate Rhodey, otherwise my life felt non-existent. What would a life be without Rhodey? Oppressive? Simple? Still full of wealth?

The kiss deepened, and some alien noise filled the air, escaping from my lungs. It was a moan. My first sexual moan. The first of many. Stolen from my body by Rhodey.

My Rhodey.

Oh Rhodey.

The noise took us all by surprise. The kiss broke, and we looked into each other’s eyes. His pupils were dilated and carried a predatory look about them.

The door opened and the sound of glass smashing on the wooden floor made us jump apart.

“What are you doing to this Omega?!”

Oh Rhodey. It really was the beginning of the end.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments on the previous chapter; it was greatly appreciated.
> 
> To answer some questions: Tony is a Male Omega in this work. If you are not familiar with the Omega verse, or are interested in my version of the Omega verse, then I can write a section for this. And yes, The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood is an inspiration for this work. Other inspirations come from Carol Ann Duffy's poetry Anthology The World's Wife, Khaled Hosseini's The Kite Runner and Jim Hall's poetry collection, Boy. The piece is set in the past, the 19th century, but is an AU that focuses on tradition the treatment of certain members of society. 
> 
> Thank you again!


	3. Peggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the kiss.

Rhodey would bring me paper and pencils every time he visited me. He said that it was important that I kept working hard, so that I may do well when I am older.

“It’s important, Tones. You hafta show the world that you are great. Better than most snooty Alphas.” He would ruffle my hair – why did it always have to be the hair?

“I am not allowed to be better than an Alpha, Rhodey.”

“You’re better than me.”

He always said stuff like that. It made my chest heavy, because saying stuff like that was illegal but could it really be illegal when he was an Alpha and Alphas decided what was illegal? I stroked the hem of my sleeve absently. The conversation was dead; he knew I would not respond to that and he could not say anymore, despite the list of things that he wished he would say.

“My sister is turning sixteen tomorrow.” He told me suddenly. I nodded softly.

“I’ll go to the ceremony.” It was a promise that I could not keep. Mother would not let me attend a ceremony for a working-class Omega. I had only been allowed to three coming-of-age ceremonies before that point in my life.

The ceremony usually went as followed: Omegas only, besides the Match Makers, who sit in a semi-circle around a raised stage. The of Age Omegas would sit at the front, the younger ones at the back. The Omega who the ceremony was for would kneel on the stage as their Match Maker stood to the left of them, their mother on the right.

The Match Maker would speak, hand on the Omega’s shoulder. Speak about becoming a grown Omega, ready to take the responsibilities that come along with it. That in whatever amount of time, they would be married to their Alpha and soon after that, pregnant. Of course, the actual speech was a long and a continuous drone that numbed the skull and caused eyelids to become heavy.

The ceremony itself was not the reason I longed to go the event; it was the party that took place afterwards.

There were not many occasions for an Omega to feel like the centre of attention, but during the festivities after the ceremony, Omegas seized the opportunity like a cat upon a mouse. All who were part of the ceremony must give the Omega a gift. A needle set, a new tea cup, some dress lining material. Something useful that they could use once they moved into their Alpha’s home.

In the three ceremonies that I had been two at that point in my life, there had been basket upon baskets of presents, so much so that early morning the next day, the Alpha and Beta relatives had to make four trips to the ceremony centre in order to pick up the items.

Ceremonies were a pivotal moment for any Omega.

Rhodey took my hand and squeezed it in thanks. I smiled at him. My Rhodey. Before the kiss we shared when I was ten, this was his way for showing me affection. Squeezing my hand.

It was repetitive and bought about a sweet sort of comfort between the two of us. I especially enjoyed the action after he had complimented my intellect, where the squeeze was for something that should, truthfully, have landed me in prison.

“I think you’ve gotta keep learning, Tony.” He had told me this once with an admiringly kind smile.

Rhodey’s voice was soft and encouraging, yet never really patronising. At first, when he was teaching me how to build and he was reciting the Weekly Post (the village’s first and only newspaper) to him in a calm, even voice, he seemed to believe that he could help me in terms of education, too.

He had bought me a fairy-tale book for small children, and said he wanted to teach me how to read. For some reason, I had been afraid of admitting that I could read and write to Rhodey despite him being very eager to teach me woodwork. I had not made the connection between the two Un-Omega activities, though I see now that, in most cases, it is good to hold reservations in regard to certain things.

I wish that I had been reserved in our first kiss.

_“What are you doing to this Omega?!”_

I felt my skin grow cold and I shivered involuntarily.

Rhodey’s head snapped around to stare at the shocked woman, guilt written on his handsome features. I didn’t dare look. I wanted to hide from the future, wished with all my might for the earth to swallow me hole and live my life in darkness away from all human contact.

“Get off my nephew at once, Rhodes!” Auntie Peg’s voice filled the room. Despite the fear still struck in me, my shoulder relaxed. Aunt Peggy could be reasoned with. Aunt Peggy was good.

Aunt Peggy sounded so concerned. Her voice was hard and cold; it terrified me slightly to hear the new tone that I previously had not though possible.

“Agent Carter, this is wha-“

She yanked him off me and I let out a whimper, despite trying my hardest not to. Aunt Peggy’s stare hardened.

Whimpering was only going to make matters worse, I knew that. I had to draw the courage to speak, besides my fear in what may have happen. Or, what was going to happen, if I did not speak up soon.

“Aun-aunt Peggy…” I began, only to be met with a steel-bone gaze. I bit back another pathetic whimper that hung in my throat like a bad breath. I had to speak! “Rhodey is… is my friend.”

Auntie Peg looked taken aback, eyes wide. An Alpha, friends with an Omega? It was unheard of, especially in the upper classes of society. I watched as her eyebrow furrowed, rose and then furrowed again.

“Tony…” She began, but I shook my head.

“Do not tell mother!” I pleaded, falling onto my knees. Rhodey look so uncomfortable. A 14-year-old Alpha is not really a full Alpha at all. It is a child-Alpha that pretends to be what it is not. “Do not tell mother, or father, Aunt Peggy. They will surely kill Rhodey!”

“Nobody is getting killed, Tony. Calm down, please. Rhodes. Leave now. I will speak to you this evening at practise. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Rhodey squeaked, running out of the house. I knew that he would have been down the garden path and around the left corner as fast as lightening. I still missed watching him leave. It gave me a sense of security. There was no way Rhodey could have been caught if I watched him leave the grounds. I suppose I fancied myself a good-luck charm, almost. Not that things such as good-luck charms actually work. It’s all just superstition.

I kept my eyes cast down, my body and mind screaming _shame, shame, shame._ I had taken away some of my purity by kissing Rhodey. It was not allowed, not allowed at all and I had allowed it to happen. And I knew the horror stories that floated around about Omegas who let Alphas have their way with them.

One of my Father’s friends, Lord Obidiah Stane, liked to share stories of young Omegas he punished for their ‘sinful, disgusting behaviour’.

“Alphas can’t control themselves around fresh Omegas.” He said, Dara’s chicken soup matted into his grey beard. It made me feel so queasy. “Omegas twist it all around to suit them. They think we do not know, but we do.” He gave a curt, angry nod of his bald head as if it was furthering his point. I could see the sweat collating within the folds of fatty flesh on the back of his head. “So this Omega, fifteen, pregnant and unable to name the father, cries ‘rape’! All Omegas cry rape, but my clients cannot rape when their thinking capacities are hindered. This Omega boy worked in a tavern his parents owned, too. Full-fleshed and handing out beer to hard-working, respectable Alphas. Deserved what happened.”

“Please,” My father had a smirk on his face “Tell us more about this…Omega’s repentance.” I knew that he was trying to scare me. It worked.

Obidiah spoke about the mutilation of the Omega-child as if he was speaking about the ripest of fruit.

“Of course, my associates agreed that the slut was guilty. We removed the child and the womb. The Omega cried and wailed and one guard almost showed him comfort, but that’s precisely what allowed the situation to happen.”

“And where is the Omega now?”

“Dead, sadly. Suicide. Could not live with his sins. Of course, his time as a painted harlot must have affected him a great deal. The death was not a loss, more food to go around.”

Rhodey and I had broken so many rules. Thank my guardian angel that Aunt Peggy had found us. She was breaking another rule by being at the home without mother or father being present. We were a house of sinners and that was something that had to be addressed sooner or later.

“I love him.” I whispered to the floorboards, waiting for Aunt Peggy’s verdict. “He makes me happy.”

Aunt Peggy let out a sigh. It was not hard or soft, angry or sad, quick or slow. Just a sigh. The concealed meaning of the sigh made me look up at her.

She was smiling a wobbly smile, eyes wet.

 “Sweetheart. You cannot possibly love James Rhodes. You should not have ever spoken to him.”

“Oh, but we’ve been friends for two years! Aunt Peggy, he gave me a promise ring, look!” I held up the ring, realising at that moment that he had not placed it on me. It was not true if the Alpha did not place the ring on the Omega. I let out a gasp. “Oh no!”

“Tony? Tony, what is it?” Aunt Peggy started checking my body, probably for signs that I had been attacked after all. I yanked my vessel away from her hands.

“He did not place the ring on my finger! It is not a promise yet!” I cried, trying to run out of the door. Rhodey had to put it on my finger!

Aunt Peggy put me in a vice grip. “Hush, child! Please! Tony, once the ring is on your finger, you must keep it on always and if you do that, your mother will surely faint!” She shook me slightly, and he felt the tears rush down my cheeks. I felt ridiculous. I felt stuck.

“Aunt Peggy, I do not want to belong to another Alpha.” I told her with a sort of tone that indicated that I was heart-broken. What does a ten-year-old know of heart-break?

She hugged me close, soft and clean-smelling. “Tony, this is just an infatuation.” She whispered carefully in my ear, as if the words she chose had the power to murder me. Alternatively, she could make me see sense; Rhodey had no place in my life. “Pepper Potts is a great woman and she will make sure you have an Alpha who is fair.” She smoothed out my hair.

“I want Rhodey.”

Another sigh. “That is not possible, my love. Give me the ring and-“

“No, it’s my ring!” I began to sob into her sleeve, clutching the ring against my chest. The corset made breathing heavily hard, yet at the same time, it made the sobs all the more powerful. “It’s mine.”

“Tony, please…” She stroked my hair back. “Listen, Rhodes is a good cadet. He listens well. And do not think he won’t be getting a good telling off for this. He should know better. But you cannot fantasise about having a life with him. It will not happen. There is no possibility of it happening.”

Her words were said not with malice but with the intention to teach me. Rhodey was not what I had been through so much for; I was expecting to be given to an Alpha with much higher prospects. Rhodey was at most a servant who would continue to work in my father’s shops. Rhodey was not mine to fall in love with.

And I was not his to love, either.

As a child does, I threw the ring on the ground and hurtled into my bed, hugging my pillow close as I sobbed.

I loved Rhodey.

I had to stop thinking that way.

Aunt Peggy picked the ring up. “I love you, darling boy. Despite what you may think right now.” She said kindly. I sobbed harder and she left me alone.

That evening, Dara told me that a week on Thursday, Miss Potts would pick me up in the morning and I would not be back until Friday evening.

I nodded solemnly, dropped the clean fork onto the table and trailed up the stairs to my room. I closed my eyes.

I could still feel the warmth of Rhodey’s lips on my own.

I could still imagine our cottage in the woods, where I would design and build and paint our furniture. Pepper could visit sometimes and we’d chat about the weather and the news (I would be allowed to read and write freely, of course).

I wonder now if what I loved was Rhodey, or the freedoms that came with being his. I suppose it was a mixture of both.

And as I lay in my bed, tears falling down my cheeks, I held my ring finger up to the moonlight. And I felt a strange feeling. A feeling of hope.

I hoped that I and Rhodey would find a way.

If there is a will, as the Match Makers say, there is a way.

I would marry James Rhodes, live in my own little cottage and make my own furniture. Not much else could stop me.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was shorter, I know. But the next one is quite long.
> 
> Thank you.


	4. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper takes Tony to Totleigh Manor.

Pepper, true to her word, picked me up a week on Thursday.

It was early, the sky red from the sun’s entrance back into our skies. I had always wondered about the sun and the moon and the stars; what where they? How did they get up there? How long would it take to reach one? What did we look like to other humans on the stars, if there were any at all?

I had once voiced these thoughts to Dara, who was always around and always boring unless you took dominance of the conversation. She had rolled her eyes at me as she folded my clothes, all freshly washed and smelling of roses.

“That is not the sort of thing I or you ought to know. What is up stays up… and you keep your head out of them clouds, otherwise they’ll start rationing your food. You already eat like a sparrow.”

There was this bizarre belief that too much food made an Omega rebellious, as if the extra dollop of butter or the too-thick cut of bread suddenly burst open a flood-gate’s worth of unsuitable thoughts and feelings. Why would an Omega be thinking about the skies? Too well-fed. Of course. Natural curiosity is unbecoming of creatures like Omegas.

Microscopic proportions became an issue for me.

Like most other issues I carry about my person, eating was something that became problematic due to my mother’s concerns over me being a decent enough Omega to win my father some sort of lengthy contract. I used to tell my mother stories about flying knights in gold armour, protecting the lands. At first she listened with a kind-hearted smile. The smile disappeared when I began to talk about the young Omega warrior that saved the day.

_You mean Alpha, sweetness._

_No, Mama, my knight is the toughestest Omega ever._

_Omegas are not tough, Tony. They are well-mannered. They can be princesses and queens and wives and mothers. Not Knights._

She could not have made herself any clearer. Sadly, my four year old brain did not gage that my mother had wanted to put an end to the conversation.

I told her about the Omega school I had invented, and she walked away in tears.

That evening I was given a bowl of soup and sent to bed. The next day, half a satsuma and a honey-dipped biscuit was all that I given. And the next day. Any infantile plumb that I previously carried upon me had gone and I felt as if my head was going to explode if I did more than turn in bed after the fourth day. I did not even feel hunger and began to leave the biscuit and satsuma, no longer interested.

Miss Drayton, an elderly woman who had Dara’s position as ‘nanny’ before the events I am about to reveal, took pity to my circumstances. At first, milk. Then cream, then porridge. All liquid-based and just about palatable. My mother, who had seen my sudden downhill turn in health as a punishment from the lord for speaking about becoming a knight, did not know at first what Miss Drayton was doing. Instead, she believed the return in energy was a sign that the lord had changed my mindset into becoming more Omega. Whatever it means to become ‘more Omega’ in the first place, heaven knows not I.

But when I was caught telling Miss Drayton about my Omega Knight character by my mother, it was certain that I had to at least attempt to be a good Omega. For my mother’s sake. The nanny was thrown out of the house for encouraging such ‘ghastly mindsets’.

I was back in bed due to weakness after three days of half a satsuma.

And since that whole incident, eating had become particularly hard. And it was all the sun’s fault, really. The sun and it’s red sky.

The air was cool as Pepper carried my overnight bag to the horse and cart that had parked in front of my home. The coachman, a shy looking Beta, began to climb off his sea as to assists – Pepper dismissed him with a casual shake of the head.

She loaded the coach and took my hand as she helped me into the carriage. The seats were plump, a royal blue felt-type material that appeared to comfort the flesh through clothing. I dragged my finger along the copper trimmings along the windows, mouth contorting into disgust as a thing veil of dust came along with my finger like a stow-away on a busy commercial boat. I wiped the dust off on the seat besides me and looked out of the window.

Father was away. Mother was sleeping. Dara was visiting her seamstress sister in the city whilst I was away.

I felt a sudden pang in my heart, something that I had grown accustomed to over the past week and a half. Aunt Peggy did not, as I suspected she would not, tell my mother or my father.

She had put the ring in her pocket and gone downstairs to Dara, making out that she had only just arrived. I heard Dara call for me, wait and then call for me again.

I pretended to sleep and I assume that Aunt Peggy told Dara that I was probably be asleep and that it would be best to let me rest.

Things were quiet until Mother came back. I spent my time in bed, thinking about Rhodey and the events that had transpired thus far. I was the one who initiated the kiss, who made the strange moan-noise, who had gotten Rhodey into trouble. I would be punished by God for ruining my purity.

My mind kept racing, switching positions and roads of reasoning. I wanted a forest cottage with Rhodey.

I wanted to make my mother proud.

I wanted to make a life for myself, not be the star possession of somebody else’s.

If I eloped with James Rhodes, then I would be given the opportunity to be my own person. I craved for the freedom.

But it would still be private.

I knew what I truly wanted, even at the age of ten.  As I sat in the carriage, across from Pepper and staring off into the distance, I knew what I wanted. I just did not have a name or a definition for what I felt, besides the illegal, nasty terms that reminded me of my mortal state and the swatting hand of God that could smite me down where I stood.

It would not belong, however, until I learned what such thoughts and feelings were actually called.

Pepper’s hair was red and it made me think of the strawberries that used to grow in the garden before father removed them to extend the patio. They were sweet and I used to grab handfuls at a time, until Dara scolded me and informed me that ‘they have to be washed to get rid of insects, idiot!’.

I thought about my own tussled, short hair and felt a little discouraged. I could grow it out if I wanted to, but I knew that I would not look after the hair and it would instead turn into a frizzy, knotted catastrophe. Pepper’s hair was down and almost flat. The locks were pretty and I hoped that she might even entrust me to brush it once we got to our destination.

I asked her again for information regarding where precisely we were going. Totleigh Manor, she responded.

What’s so special about a Manor, I asked her. She let out a pretty laugh.

“Wait and see.”

And so I did, with growing excitement the further we went from my little village. Just as we were turning, however, I noticed a dark blur walking towards my house. It was Rhodey!

We had not spoken since that fateful day. I wanted to tumble out of the carriage and speak to him about what had transpired and what had happen to my ring, but I also knew that it would be improper and would lead to serious consequences.

So I stayed still and allowed Rhodey to walk down the garden path as we made our way up North, away from my village and my troubles.

 

 

The main route to the city from my village was a long strip of road that had forced itself between rivers and woodlands, farms and settlements, rivers and mountains. For a direct route, a quicker route, a more regulated route.

Soldiers had stations along the main roads, and on all turn-off points that led the individual to other villages and farms.

We did not go the left, down South towards the city.  We had gone right, a path nobody ever went besides soldiers. I assumed that there were more cities and villages, but further away and therefore not worth travelling to.

The Courts of Justice were to the left and Father often frequented there as a Decider. Deciders were all rich Alphas that the government felt best understood what to do with criminals. My father did not ever really speak about what happened at the Courts unless Lord Obidiah Stane was there, since he was OverLord of the institution.

I knew that Alphas who entered romantic or sexual relationships with other Alphas were castrated. Omegas who entered relationships with other Omegas had their wombs and tongues removed.

What is an Omega that cannot get pregnant or voice their thoughts?

Precisely.

What is an Omega who falls in love with another Omega? Or an Alpha that falls in love with another Alpha?

That was up to people like my Father and Lord Obidiah Stane.

 

“I wish I could take you to the city Tony. There’s flowers stalls all over, run by young Omegas like yourself. And soldiers are nice, at times, and play football with children on the streets and there are open concerts where everyone dances and sings and…” She trailed off, sighing wistfully.

“Pepper, do you dance?” I asked. The read head shook ‘no’. “I can dance, Mother said I had to prepare for my wedding.”

I could dance. Not very well, since the teacher found me far too hyper-active and quit after only six lessons of teaching me. I wanted to turn and swoop and move all around. That was expected of Omegas and, as expected from my youth, I was punished for making a mockery of my family through being so un-Omega like. Being locked in a room for three days straight sounds fun, so long as there is some sort of relief for the brain. But Father had removed all of my toys and I was without much stimulation. I think that my brain compensated by growing my imagination. An unsuitable thing for an Omega to use.

Perhaps I should have been born Alpha?

Either case, it was the fault of my father that I was always so hyperactive. I wanted his attention and being loud and repetitive seemed to be the only way to do this.

“I prefer to watch.” Pepper told him in regard to dancing. “Though, you may dance today.”

“I may?”

“Of course, if that is what you want to do… Tony, it is important that I understand you as a person. Yes, you will be a wife and a mother but before all that you are still Tony. As far as my aunt was concerned, you are wild and imaginative but would be good for a strict Alpha who wishes to have a challenge.”

I felt a little bit shocked by Pepper’s revelation. I had not ever thought of myself as being challenging. As part of my Omega nature, I was quite submissive… thought I had not realise in my youth that, if the situation calls for it, submission is the ultimate weapon.

“But I disagree. You are young, and times are changing. In the rural areas, life is so ancient and… and stifling. Your poor mother is a prime example. She sits in that room, knitting and knitting and knitting, until your father comes home. Then she sits on his lap on kneels by his feet whilst he works. It’s just so… static.”

She spoke openly and freely about such things, about such forbidden things.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is, Tony, you do not have to- you do not need to be your mother. You can be Tony. You can be you.”

I felt the silence that followed bury me. Rhodey had said the same things in a different sense. Tony Stark, an Omega builder? I’d get murdered or have my womb removed. Tony Rhodes, an Omega that built in secret? It was better but I longed for freedom.

The city sounded like a place that would allow me to be free. Whatever freedom was. But first I had to figure out a few things.

“I’m not sure who I am.” I told Pepper gently. “I’m not my mother or my father, or anybody else I know.”

“Which isn’t many other people.” She pointed out to me. I nodded stiffly. “That is not your fault. I am determined to right by you, Tony Stark.”

“Why?”

“Because the privileged have less privileges than the common man sometimes. They speak about you. Your father and his friends and the soldiers he hires. They speak about you like you’re a bag of shiny new coins and it makes me feel sick.”

My heart felt like it was being squeezed and crush. This was a dangerous conversation to be having.

“I-I… Is this a test?” I asked.

Pepper looked surprised. “No. Why do people always ask me that?” She took my hands and squeezed them. “There’s a movement taking place right under their noses. New Omega Rights Movement, but it covers everyone. You, me, Alphas who do not want well-trained objects as Omegas but instead want companions, life partners. And Tony, I have six to do right by you.”

Confidence.

Pepper Potts was confidence.

I had confidence in her.

“I like to create things.” I let the statement drop out of my mouth, the taste like led. My eyes creased shut; afraid of a twinge in her expression or a fall within the crevices of her mouth. There was silence, and it felt like dirt falling on top of me. I repeated myself.

“I know.” She replied easily. My head snapped up, a mixture of shock and surprise. She was neutral, no fall or grimace or twist outwardly visible on her expression. “Tony, you showed me that mirror. Everything else was so predictable in your room. The clothes and the dolls. If you like those things, then fine. But chances are you do not. The mirror, you held it with pride and when you called it _your_ mirror, I knew.”

Had I been so transparent? I knew that I trusted Pepper Potts from the moment I met her but the fact she could discern all of that from the brief amount of time I had spent with her in my room that day was concerning to my mind. I did not wish to be so easily readable.

“You knew. You knew that…”

“That you are clever and need an escape from pretending not to be. How did you make it?” Pepper looked so interested in what I had to say. Bless Pepper.

“My nanny, Dara, bought a workbench for me on my eight birthday.” I told her.

“Sounds like a trick that most certainly backfired, then.” Pepper replied. What? Dara, attempting to trick me?

“What do you mean?”

“Well, surely she knew that it was a bad idea to allow you to have a workbench? She certainly did not seem impressed by me when we met last, so I doubt she is aware of the movement.”

“But her buying it would get her into trouble too.” I pointed out.

“True, that is certainly true. Perhaps it was a blip on her part?” Pepper shrugged. “Or maybe she wanted to help you develop skills that were not sewing or knitting?”

That seemed unlikely. Dara was my closest friend, despite never actually being my friend in any conventional terms.

“How did you make the mirror?” Pepper asked, and this time I felt hesitant to speak the truth. How could I tell her about Rhodey, an Alpha who was four years my elder, working class and wishing to run away with me?

The familiar silence settled again. Pepper allowed me thinking time before she opened her mouth once again. “I want our relationship to be honest and open, Tony. No lies, no secrets.”

“I… I have a friend called James Rhodes. He’s an Alpha and he taught me how to… use things… I like designing. Drawing and writing my ideas. I do not have access to the correct materials to actually make them, sadly.”

“So you made a mirror?”

“I did.”

“That’s commendable, Tony. Truly.” I did not see what so commendable about it at the time. Breaking laws did not make a person commendable. It made them sinful and that it what I was. But there again, so was Pepper.

“I’m glad you have a friend Tony. That Alpha boy you speak of. It’s good to meet a range of people.”

She did not know that he wanted to run away with me. I would not tell her.

It would make her job obsolete if she did not match me.

 

 

It was ten AM when the carriage began to ride up a winding cobble stone path. Totleigh Manor was visible, though it did not look like any manor I remember seeing before in my life. A thickly thatched roof, with a ground floor and a first storey. The stone walls of the manor were white and appeared to be well looked-after.

The window frames, a dark brown in colour and neatly painted at that, had woven baskets filled with purple and blue flowers. They flittered in the breeze and added a new, fresh sort of vibrancy to the so-called manor. It was not particularly small, but it was not large, either. As we got closer, the gates were opened, and another red-haired woman waved at Pepper, who in turn seemed to get even more excited. The horses stopped pulling us once we were through the gates, and the red-haired woman opened the door.

Pepper hugged the new lady close. Of course, the ‘new lady’ is not new to me anymore. Just like Pepper is not a new friend and Rhodey is longer a young boy. But in my mind, when I see Pepper, I see the young 16-year-old with enough confidence to change the world.

“Natasha, it’s so good to see you!” pepper cried as she hugged the Omega.

Natasha smirked. “Of course it is, Pepper… And this is Tony?” Natasha stared at me like she was deciding which part to bite into first. It was odd to see an Omega with such a stare. She took my hand and helped me out of the carriage. “Tony, welcome to Totleigh.”

I smiled nervously at her. Pepper shook her head kindly. “Do not be frightened, Tony! Natasha is a good friend of mine and somebody who you can learn much from.”

“I-It’s nice to… to meet you, Miss Natasha.”

“It’s just Natasha, Tony. The only person who is not on a first-name basis is the Doctor… but he is not here at present therefore you need not worry about it.”

Pepper nodded, smiling reassuringly at me.

Natasha went and took my bags, whispered a quick word to the driver, handed him money, watched him leave and close the gates. Every action she performed was done with such precision…

“Shall we go inside?” Natasha suggested. She and Pepper walked in front as I observed the grounds. The garden was impressive, wide arrays of flower beds overrun with spring peas and pulsatilla blooms stretching out in the air, chasing the spring time sun. They were wild and beautiful. The flowers we had growing at home were strictly cropped and kept in rows by a gardener that came to the home daily. Nothing left its bed, grew too high or tangled stalks.

I wished they looked like the mixed wild of Totleigh Manor. Walking through the wooden door was like getting a hug from somebody special and warm. The hearth was fire-full, purring out heat, and it kept the hall in a constantly cosy state.

The stairway was wide and in the middle of the hall. Half way through, however, the stairway split into two, one case of stairs going left and the other one going right.

There were books on all surfaces of the hall. Shelves, drawers, cabinets, chairs, even the floor were covered in thick, leather-bound novels and anthologies and theories and research papers. I had never seen so many books, in my entire life! Newspapers, certainly. But never these thick things with more information than I could possibly ever retain, even if I lived a thousand years.

Natasha noticed me looking at the stacks of books longingly and laughed. “Can you read?” She asked me. I wondered if she was wanting to mock me, but there was no trace of malice in her eyes or tone.

“Yes, I can.”

 “Excellent! You’re already several steps ahead! Then, shortly you can have a look around. The books are not in any particular category, I am afraid; there are simply too many books to be able to do so!”

I nodded, taking in Natasha.

“Can you read?” He asked her. Natasha nodded.

Another Omega who could read? I was not aware that was… a possibility?

“What do you read Tony?”

“The, ugh, newspaper?” I shrugged; it was not impressive, not when my father bought thick, thousand-pages long books back home to read up on. Still, Natasha gave a nod.

“That’s good. It is not fair that we are told not to read by people who are not Omegas. Or, even by other Omegas. It’s a basic right.” She spoke like Pepper and I realised that what I had been bought to was nothing less than a rebellion.

“Is there anybody else here?” I asked, only knowing of the previously mentioned Doctor.

Natasha shook her head. “Not at present. Tonight, we will be joined by others, however. “

“Tony, I wish to show you our room!” Pepper took my hand and ran up the stairs, turning left. The corridor was long and led to a work room with hundreds, if not thousands, of books scattered around, alongside parchment and pencils and fountain pens and tiny tubs of ink. On the wall was writing, all different scrawls and sizes.

Hundreds of personalities left themselves on that wall. It was a wall of evidence that we were not alone and I, for the first time in my life, might not be as wrong or as unsuitable or as un-Omega as the people in my life had led me to believe.

Pepper took me to a room that had two beds and again, more books. I assumed that every single room in this manor probably was crammed with them, which was in no terms a bad thing. The beds were large and covered in knitted blankets and goose feather pillows that were guaranteed to drift you off into a heavenly sleep. The windows were wide and the length of the room, with alcove ledges that were raised. They had been padded with cushions, a make-shift seating area.

“It is wonderful.” I whispered, dragging my feet along the thick cream rug that was laid over the wooden flooring. My throat felt weak despite the questions burning to get out.

Was this place safe? Why me? Was I the only Omega under Pepper’s care to come here?

I assumed not to the last one. Match Makers were busy people and as much as I wanted to believe that I was special, it occurred to me that there was no possible way I could be as unique as I wanted to believe I was. Pepper probably wanted to give this opportunity to all of her clients.

After all, that is what I was first and foremost.

A client.

“I love this room, the view from the windows is breath taking.” Pepper took my hand and sat me down beside her at the alcove. She pressed her forehead against the glass and I did the same. The room was to the back of the manor. The garden was long and filled with colour, a pond residing in the middle. A barn was also in close proximity; with a shed also close by. Horses, sheep and chickens roamed the land freely.

It was idyllic.

It was the sort of place you expected a rich family to live, with staff and a nanny. Unlike my home, though, it was personal and homely. My house felt empty. Everything was for show, including myself. My mother was a little porcelain doll. I was being turned into one, too.

But Pepper would to right by me.

I felt my eyes water, and a squeezed Pepper’s hand.

“It is wonderful.” I repeated.

 

Natasha Romanov was an Omega that did not wish to play the role of one in the slightest. Whilst I could convince myself that being married and having children was something that I would be somewhat content with, given time and some freedom, Natasha had never, ever even considered it to be a possibility. She wanted to be a soldier.

A group of thugs took advantage of the young Omega girl who wanted to be something more than her station in life would allow. They used her as bait. A helpless, lost Omega, tricking men. As she grew, the tactics and ways in which she was used grew, too. Eventually, Natasha was having sex with Betas, Alphas even Omegas as a way to make others rich. And they found that using an Omega worked out well. So more young Omegas were taken with promises of being more and taught how to use theirs bodies and exploited for money and power.

Much like how she did not want to be a Mother and a Wife, Natasha quickly decided that she no longer wanted to be bad or used for sex. After asking for the money she had earned, the group attempted to kill her. She found that years of pickpocketing and silent moving and knife tricks had made her quite lethal. Within moments, she had killed the three thugs who had attempted to murder her in cold blood. Staring at what she had done, Natasha came to the resolution that she now could only have one job in society; protect and empower other Omegas.

She grabbed another, longer, sharper knife, gathered some gold and went down to where the Omegas who, like her, were being exploited for crime.

She was going to free them.

It was not until she reached the bottom step that she noticed the utter silence. Dread knotted in the pit of her stomach, like a poisonous snake wrapping itself around prey. She crept silently to the door, creaking it open with miniscule pushes. _Creeeaaaaak_ the door went as blood pooled around Natasha’s bare feet.

She was then pounced on by another thug. Natasha grunted as she fell into the puddles of blood that had been collated from the fellow slain Omegas whose bodies were strewn across the room as if they were nothing more than rugs. The Thug punched her in the stomach, causing the young woman to lurch forward, grunting in pain. It was due to the blood, though, that the Thug slipped as he attempted to place his hand down to settle himself after the punch. Natasha kneed him in the groin and slipped from underneath the murderer. She kicked him hard in the stomach, but she knew that it would not be enough.

Her eyes darted around, looking for a tool, something to help her.

The thug was not hard-dazed by the kick was regaining stability quickly. It was then when a silver glimmer caught Natasha’s attention. A shaving blade. With a grunt, Natasha slid herself toward the blade, gripping it tightly as she fell back onto the floor, back against the cut-open belly of a young Omega. She let out a cry as her back stuck to the guts of a young Omega, barely the age of twelve. It was warm and gave off a putrid smell. The thug grabbed Natasha’s ankles, dragging her down. With a growl, she used her force to throw her upper body towards the thug’s hands. The blade slipped through the wrist of the left arm like it was warmed butter. The man screamed out, and Natasha took this time to kick him in the face. The blade then entered the throat, like a lamb to the slaughter. She pulled it rigidly through the skin and made a sawing motion, guiding the blade deeper.

She had wandered briefly why the blade was so sharp. She later found a diary being kept by one of the younger Omegas, talking about how they were going to kill the band. They understood that they were not truly free, and that freedom had to come through death. The blade was their only hope, and so they had been sharpening and working on the blade whilst caring for the other weapons. Why a shaving blade?

Because they could conceal it easily.

 

The thug bled to death as Natasha sobbed against another dead body, this one with several stab wounds. Still warm.

If only she had been quicker, been quieter, thought it through.

Then they’d be alive.

Natasha had told me this story when I was slightly older, around fourteen. I had begun my heat recently, though that is a story for later, and for once, I began to hate my body. It was these thoughts that allowed Natasha to tell me this story.

It was why she resided at Totleigh Manor, where Omegas were given choices and freedoms. She could not help the ones who she personally had doomed, so instead she settled with preventing such things from happening.

I was going to be her redemption, she told me, hugging me close. It was not often Natasha hugged me. Pepper, yes. Others, yes. But she seemed to fear hugging me.

I wished that she did not hold such fears. I admired her to no bounds.

I suppose it is Natasha and her story that made me what I am today.

Thank you, Natasha. Wherever you are.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Sappuppet, who makes me think about my writing and the way in which I portraying themes and ideas. You are a wonder! 
> 
> Thank you.


	5. Obidiah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: The sexual assault of a ten-year-old. It isn't pretty, it isn't consensual and happen at the end of the chapter. If you wish to skip it then stop reading at their arrival back to Tony's home.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has patience. I have enjoyed the holidays; have you?
> 
> Thank you.

Keeping a diary is something Pepper told me many Omegas did in private in the city. A diary, of course, is personal and secretive and often, I have imagined, drenched in a harsh sort of shame. Oddly ironic too; for myself writing gives the chance to connect not just these thoughts and feelings inside my head, but also connects me to my vessel, the Omega me that holds a mind that can be something other than Omega.

Not that being an Omega is necessarily a bad thing; I am granted emotional-attachment, the right to go stir-crazy. These are my rights as an Omega. Certainly, I will never take them granted, at least never again.

One should always consider their predicament before taking such things for granted.

Writing is what began my revolt against society. The Omegas who had written on the walls of Totleigh Manor may now only be the ink left on stone and wood, but I am not. I suppose it has always been my destiny to speak out against how we are treated, perceived. There was a story in Totleigh Manor, about Moses delivering his people to their promised land. Biblical. An Alpha who is wronged by society.

Alphas play a very different strategy for survival than Omegas, do they not?

I enjoyed my evening at Totleigh Manor. Pepper had bought with her several newspapers, a range of dates. Natasha read them with great interest. I had not given it much thought at the time, but quickly learned that Natasha did not leave Totleigh.

It made sense, of course, that she would not be able to leave. But all I could think about was the terrible claustrophobia. Had she not any family? Had she not something other than a place of illegal education that existed in what seemed to be its own frame of reality? And when Pepper was busy, who else resided here in the manor, keeping her company?

I had a lot of questions about Natasha, as I ate thick cuts of bread layered with freshly churned butter. I wonder now if I should have spoken to her then, or if she would have been just as weary of me as I was, initially, of her.

I think I felt a sense of authority over her at first. I could laugh at myself for it now, of course, but when I was that young and that new to this secret world of freedom, Natasha was a shock to the system.

Unwed, unmated, free-willed, sexually active?

My mother would have screamed ‘harlot’ and fainted if she knew Natasha. She made me uncomfortable, with her confidence and loud presence; she was reading out an article about the Omegas running riot in the city.

“… What are we coming to as a society, where Omegas are given the chance to manipulate Alphas into work? Where they can run around with virtually no clothing on? And this ‘corsetry’ business is ruining tradition!” Natasha sounded amused, which I could not understand. I was seething unbridled anger at the words she seemed to be taking lightly. My corset was an introduction to a range of freedoms I had yet to know of.

In the short time it had been on my body, it had not caused me as much suffering at the rags had done. Not nearly as much. And Natasha was _laughing?_

Natasha was my first glimpse into humour.

“Tony, we better watch out! Your father might catch glimpse of this article and rip the corset of you himself!” Pepper laughed as she also ate. I felt like it was my turn to speak, but I had not the wits to reply with anything decent.

“I’d claw him if he did.” I replied. Natasha snorted. Pepper continued to laugh. I opened my mouth to speak once more when there was a knock at the door.

I froze and the once fluffy bread in my mouth turned to led. I could feel it poisoning me as my entire body turned cold. I was about to be found in a manor full of books with no Alpha in sight, no way to explain why I was so UnOmega, why God should not punish me for my actions.

My legs, too, had turned to led and I felt as if though I might fall off my chair. My father would be so angry… And I would have to admit to everything!

“He’s here!” Pepper exclaimed, running to get the door. Something eased in my body and I let out a sigh I had not realised was attempting to leave me. Pepper had said something about others coming, had she not? I was overreacting.

That is my downfall. Overreacting.

I settled back down a swallowed the still lead-like lump of wet bread in my throat. I felt foolish, despite not having done anything openly. Times like those, in my reflection, would be great times for a diary. To settle that moment of dread, blinding white panic, settle it all down with words that were clear and concise and made sense.

There was light chatter from the hallway. Pepper’s voice, clear and bright and chipper. A softer voice, a male’s voice. And another male’s voice, much like Pepper’s in its clarity.

Pepper walked into the dining room, holding the door open for two men.

The first man to enter was tall and blond and had long blond hair that was braided at parts yet left down in other areas. He smiled at me and Natasha. “Hello, I greet you warmly.” He said kindly, with an odd tint to his voice. “My name is Thor Odinson, Omega. I am happy that I have been allowed to visit you.”

Natasha did not seem phased by the strangely muscular Omega. Not as much as I, at least. Natasha did not show emotion that easily. I never really learned to tell the difference between concern and disappointment on her face, amongst other emotions.

Thor Odinson had travelled a large distance to come to Totleigh Barton and live there. He had grown tired of his father’s plans for him and had taken off in the night, with enough money to get him lodgings, information and travel. He had a great deal of stories to tell, too. But I suppose I’ll save them for later. They might prove to be a mood-shifter.

The second man to enter was quite a bit shorter and plain-looking than Thor. He seemed nervous, which is something I could appreciate given the sort of atmosphere he was in. The man smiled at Natasha and me, before looking down.

He then looked confused and stared at me some more. “Miss Potts?” He said softly, like he was coaxing a baby out of a nightmare.

“Yes, Doctor?”

“That is-“

“I promise you, Dr. Banner, nobody will come-“

“… Howard Stark’s child is here...” He said, before groaning. I felt a little offended at that; I was not nausea-inducing! Pepper sat the Doctor down, pouring him some water.

“Dr. Banner, Tony Stark is no threat. I am his Match Maker. I have permission from Howard Stark himself! He thinks I’ve taken him on a manner’s course.” She laughed at the thought. “Trust in me, sir, an ill-outcome is impossible!”

Dr. Banner looked at me, eyes filled with concern? Or something of the sort? He then cleared his throat. “What do you like to do, Tony?” He asked me softly.

“B-build… design… um… create?” I hoped I did not sound to ridiculous. “I like to create stuff.”

“Stuff? What stuff?” Dr. Banner persisted.

“Um… I can make wood stuff… Like, um… Chairs? I can design good though. I have the correct tools to design at home, not so much build… Sir.” I added the sir on at the end, like Pepper did. It was the wrong thing to do, it appeared, as the doctor’s body went stiff as the word left my mouth.

“You can call me Dr. Banner.” He said, before leaning forward. “So, you can design?”

“Yes, Dr. Banner.”

“But you want to know how to make things?”

“More than I want to be able to do most other things, I suppose.”

He smiled, a genuine smile. “Design me something for…. Something for office use. Anything that pops into your head. Show me tomorrow morning and I’ll let you know what I can offer you, Tony.” He offered. I knew it was an offer, despite not phrasing it as one, due to his eyes. It sounds silly, ridiculously so, but I could see the gentleness in his eyes.

Bruce then turned to Thor and asked him if he would like to see the piano.

Half an hour later, Thor was playing something merry and quick as Pepper spun me around the room. Natasha clapped and drank some sort of ale and moved her feet side to side. Dr. Banner sat in an arm chair, reading something he had bought with him. I wondered if he owned Totleigh Manor?

It would make sense for an Alpha to own the property. Otherwise it would have seized and sold. It was the only sure way to protect the building, too; having an Alpha on the lease meant that it was somebody who was probably making money. Alphas made the money. Betas worked for a share. Omegas snatched at the scraps and made homes out of it.

Dr. Banner occasionally glanced up. Not at me directly but at the room. He was observing.

The song came to an end at Pepper used slightly too much power was she pushed me away, sending me flying. I landed, of course, where no decent Omega should land.

Dr. Banner’s lap.

He let out a soft yelp as I landed full bottomed on his lap. His book dropped down the side of the armchair and I took in a deep breath, awaiting a telling off about acting proper. He was still an Alpha, after all. And had every right to belittle me.

“Are you okay, Tony? Pepper shouldn’t have been so rough.” He asked with timid concern. Like he was afraid of scaring me.

I was confused. I was dazed and dizzy, too. I suppose that the day had been a long one and this was the final scare of many. I suppose that’s why I rested my head on his chest and caught my breath.

Dr. Banner did not attempt to remove me. Rather, he just simply stayed still, afraid to jostle me. Pepper was the one who had hoisted me off his lap.

“I think somebody is tired.” She said quickly, before patting me on the back. “Go to bed now, Tony, I will be up soon.” She said quickly.

Thor had stopped playing.

I felt like something was wrong. Had I done something wrong? Oh lord, learning a whole new way of thinking was difficult. Natasha and Thor both called out good night to me, and Pepper ushered me out the door.

“I’ll be up soon. I need to get some business done with Dr. Banner.” She said gently, before shutting the door.

It did not feel fair, to be cast out so suddenly, so quickly. I was here because I was special, right? That was the point of Totleigh? And suddenly, when an Alpha arrives, I am once again kicked out and ignored.

So I put my ear up against the oak, listening intently.

Pepper: _Bruce, he’s ten. Barely ten._

Bruce: _I did not do anything, Miss Potts! Do not say-_

Natasha: _I don’t think that is something to dwell on, you two. Bruce, do you think he’s the one?_

Pepper: _He doesn’t have to be the one, Natasha! He’s smart, we can help him do well if we work with him now!_

Natasha: _So what will he be at the end of it all? A literate wife and mother? You told me about the mirror he made, Pepper, he can do so much more if we just…_

Thor: _Dr. Banner has already set him a challenge, friends. Should we not wait to see the outcome of this design? Then figure out the best course of action?_

Silence. I feel a little sick. I do not understand what is being said, what they mean by ‘the one’, or what my potential might be.

Bruce: _I’ll wait to see what he can design before I make any judgements. If it’s good, I will teach him how to make real blueprints. Then I’ll… I’ll find out what he understands or does not understand and go from there. We also can’t force his hand, Natasha. If he is content with being a wife and a mother… we cannot stop that. But let me get to know him. Understand him._

Pepper: _He’s worth it, Bruce. I just…_

Natasha: _Hey, we’ll make sure it goes smoothly._

Pepper: _I know you will… thank you, Natasha._

It goes quiet. I hear soft sounds…

… Then I run up to my room. There is a desk, obviously. I sit on it, grab a piece of paper, and spew out the words I know onto a page.

 _A cat sat on the mat. A sad cat sat on the damp mat. The cat is wached day and nite._ No, night is not spelled like that. I cross it out and try again. _Night. It is washed and fed and pampred. The cat just wants to hunt. The cat is sad that it can not hunt. If it hunts than it will not be prety. The cat wants bof. The cat wants neifer. The cat is sad becase it is confoosed._

I have it tucked into my corset. The page is wrinkled and the spelling is wrong in places, and the ink has ran. But is still my first diary entry. Even if I use a cat, rather than myself. It’s hard to write about yourself when you don’t understand who exactly you are.

People, strangers, were trying to understand who I was and would become downstairs. Back at home, in the village, my mother and father think they know who I was and who I would become. It was a simple waiting game for them; just ironing out a few mistakes and then presenting me at the age of sixteen with a pretty white bow wrapped around my virginal body.

Rhodey sits in his two roomed house with his parents and siblings, holding the ring he bought me and dreaming about our house in the forest. How we will just add a room if we need extra space. How I will be a wife and a mother and a friend and lover. He thought he knew who I was and who I would become, too.

Is it okay to feel shame when your actions are not in the slightest bit shameful?

I took a fresh piece of paper and thought about what Dr. Banner had set me. Something useful in an office. I felt a little bit stuck. Useful in an office?

Desks, oil lamps, chairs, paper holders? A desk would be a good design, I supposed.

No, it would not. Too obvious.

Something useful for an office?

It was a difficult task, and one that made me feel quite angry on the inside. It should be simple! An office! What resided in an office?

But it couldn’t be obvious, surely? If it were obvious, then it would be a waste of time!

I wanted to know who I was. Dr. Banner was the person who could help me find out. Why couldn’t I come up with a simple idea?!

Frustrated, I decided to look at the books for inspiration.

Of course, most books in the room were written by Omegas, oppressed individuals, self-confessed Nomads. Diaries. I picked one up, enjoyed with little floral motif that had been drawn so delicately onto the front of the book, bound by lace, and opened the front.

The delicacy that was displayed by the drawings within the book itself transferred over to the writing. It was tiny. And the guttering candle did not help. I squinted my eyes, trying to read. It was only fuelling my frustration! I wanted to be able to read the diary, I truly, deeply did. But the writing was withered and hard and-

Oh.

I had my first real idea.

I sat back down and began to draw my new plan.

 

 

The sun was up when Pepper patted me awake. I had fallen asleep at the desk as some point, and at some other point Pepper had gone to bed, slept, woken up and decided to check to see if I was alive.

“You have not moved a muscle! It is so bizarre!” Pepper exclaimed as I whined. “What were you doing all night?”

“Plan… Dr. Banner… Plan…”

Pepper chuckled. I remembered the conversation and tensed slightly. I did not want to ask about it. I wanted to complete this challenge first, figure out where I stood with Dr Banner.

“Come on, Dr. Banner will be up now… is your plan ready?” She asked.

I looked down at the twentieth draft and nodded. Maybe twenty would be my lucky number? Pepper grinned at threw some clothes at me. Cords, I noted, Alpha clothing. I blushed despite myself. There was nothing wrong with not wearing a dress or skirt for once in my life. Cords would be a change. Why worry about being Un-Omega regarding clothing when clearly, I had already committed much worse sins.

With a tired sigh, I pulled on the cords and the blouse. I looked odd. Too small for the trousers. They were probably Natasha’s or Pepper’s, anyhow. It made sense they wouldn’t fit a ten-year-old.

I collected my design and walked with Pepper to the dining room, where food had been prepared. Sausages and bacon and toast, along with little pots of jam, all sorts of the flavours.

Dr Banner was sat at the table, as was Natasha. Thor was nowhere to be seen, however.

“Good morning, Tony.” Natasha spoke softly as she ate some toast covered in a red jam. I nodded, still sleepy. She took my nod as a reply and went back to… writing? I believe at the time she was writing.

Dr. Banner didn’t look up from his work. “Good morning, Tony.” He said calmly. I placed the design on top of his work. He froze. “What?”

“The design… Dr. Banner…”

“Oh yes… you finished it already? I thought you would ask for more time.”

I felt offended by that.

“I am not a slacker, Dr. Banner.” I told him clearly, forgetting myself. He then winced, waiting for a hit or telling-off.

“No, no… you certainly aren’t.” He mumbled, looking at my work. “So, it’s a device that let’s you magnetise and copy up writing that perhaps is difficult to the naked eye?” He questioned.

“Uhm, yes.”

“Very interesting. Good. Very good.” He said. Finally, he looked up.

Dr. Banner was young in the face, but his eyes looked tired and worn out. It suggested that he read and wrote a lot, but also may have seen many things. He had a naturally nervous deposition and I wondered if, perhaps, he had a dark past, just waiting to be uncovered.

“You like it?” Natasha asked.

Bruce nodded. “It’s very clever, Tony.” He replied, givng me a small, genuine smile.

Pepper grinned. “Told you!”

Bruce put the design to one side. “Tony, I will collect all the resources you need, and then the next time you are here I will, well… work with you to build it.” He said softly.

I dunked my bread into some strawberry jam, grinning. “That sounds terrific!” I exclaimed, looking into his eyes. He looked into mine.

“It’ll prove to be quite fun, I feel.”

 

 

That evening I returned home after a long journey with Pepper. She then told me that I would return to Totleigh Manor with her once every three weeks. She got out of the carriage to get my bag, which was also stuffed with reading material and pencils and paper, and gave me a large hug. I hugged her back.

“Thank you.” I said to her softly, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

She told me that I was more than welcome, got back into her carriage and left the estate, turning right to the city.

I carriage my bag indoors, exclaimed ‘hello’. I heard Dara’s voice from the kitchen. I went upstairs, opened the door, walked in, struck my oil lamp.

Obadiah Stane sat on my bed.

“Tony, my boy! We have been worried sick!” He exclaimed with fake concern. He felt nervous again, and wanted to curl up. “We caught that rapist dog.” He moved closer to me, wrapping a hand around my wrist. I screamed out, until he slapped a sweating palm over my lips and tutted.

“Hush now, he’s not here to harm you anymore, my boy.”

“W-who?” I mumbled into his hand. I knew the answer but I just…

I would not accept it.

Obadiah removed his hand.

“Who?”

“Don’t act silly. James Rhodes. The Alpha who’s been raping you.” He said kindly, softly. “Of course, as Lord, I need to get proof. Your father gave me permission so-“

I bit his arm hard, tasting his foul blood. He growled, and I felt my head make contact with the stone wall. Blood filled my left eye.

“Shit… see what insolence causes?” I am lifted up easily by my arms and laid down.

I had changed out of the cords and into a skirt on the ride home with Pepper. Oh Pepper, if only you had stayed a few minutes…

I know what he wants to do. He’ll lie regardless. Say that I have been tainted but am not pregnant, that God has seen my worth and given me a second chance. But he will touch me and put his finger in me.

He pulls my skirts up, and it tickles my nose. The cream colour will be stained red, I am sure. He breathes heavily onto my sex, it’s warm and strange and tingles. He shoved my useless organ out of the way and focused on my birth canal. It is still sealed, the hymen intact. He put his nose up against my hole, breathing it in. He will savour the smell.

“Fresh, like an unpicked rose.” He comments, the tone so lazy. As if he is flower picking. A finger, the index finger on his right hand, prods my labia. I whimper and he crushes me down. His nails are dirty and long and they scratch as he strokes the very beginnings of pubic hair.

Obadiah sniffs again and moans as he rubs against the entrance. I sob, a scratchy, thick sob. “They should bottle this scent up, sell it to the whores.” He declares. He rubs me more, creating friction and I feel bile rise up to my throat. I am sweating, and it stinks and he’s touching parts of me that are not his to touch. I urge myself not to throw up.

Obadiah breaks past my hymen with a brutal thrust of his finger and I scream into his hand. It hurts! It hurts, it is only a finger, but it hurts me so badly. I have not ever been penetrated by anything and… He moves his finger around harshly.

“Smooth cunny.” He praises into my ear. “You little angel.” He presses his forehead against mine and stares into my eyes. I stare back despite the tears and the pain. Let him see the fucking putrid feeling in my gut. He frowns and jabs something  filled with nerves. I squeal and he throws his head back. “Hmm… Making me feel like this, with just a finger!” He laughs. “Good boy, clinging to my finger. So tight…” He jabs that place again and I squeal. I am bleeding below, and I have a headache. It hurts, it all hurts.

I cry and whine and sob as he continues to jab and roughen me up. He is sweating, too, and he keeps making strange faces, His penis is rubbing up against my thigh, and he finally stops, with one final jab. His crotch feels warmer and I understand now that he had ejaculated.

Obadiah removes his finger and waved it in front of me. It is covered in slick and blood and sweat. He removes his other hand from my mouth and roughly jerks my head into a kiss. He doesn’t care that I am sobbing uncontrollably. Instead, he finishes the kiss, licks his finger clean, and gives on final sniff.

“James Rhodes has been raping you for two years.” He said breathlessly.

I shake my head violently.

“No?” Obadiah gets closer. “Perhaps I should inspect you again? More thoroughly?” He sniffs at my sex again and I wail. “Thought not. You’re a mess down there.” He gets off my bed, staring over me. “Like some kind of corpse.” He mocks. “That’s what the Rhodes boy will be.”

“No… No, please…”

Rhodey gave me the chance to do something fun and different. I helped me learn how to read bigger words, he… he was kind and I knew that deep down I should run away with him because it’s the most free I would ever possibly get.

“Please what? Save your poor blackie?”

“Yes! Yes… please!”

Obadiah smirks. “What would you do?”

“A-anything…” I tell him, before wincing. This been calculating a plan for everything I might say.

“I’m going to marry you when you turn sixteen, you little angel.” Obadiah said. “I will marry you and it won’t matter if you’re looser than a whore because I will take your virginity… next Monday, I will tell your father that I am taking you to a purification trip. It will last the week. I will fuck you sore and then fuck you some more for good measure.”

I shake my head. No! No! I am young and a virgin and not… not that. A whore! Not a whore!

But Rhodey.

Rhodey would still be there. I would still run away with him.

“Tony, my boy, you’re acting as if I have punctured you with a baton. It was a finger, smile for me.”

I remain still. He kicks me.

“Smile, you whore!”

A recoil and smile, a sobbing, wailing smile.

He looks ready to ejaculate again. “I will go and release your little friend if agree to my conditions. If not… well, I’ll declare you as damaged goods, torture your Rhodes and stuff him full of shit and let the bugs eat him alive in a field.”

I heave.

“Next Monday. Will you join me?”

What else could I do? I nod.

“Verbal answer, boy.”

“Y-yes…”

“Master.”

“Yes… master…” He heave again.

He smirks and walks to the door. “Good choice. Clean yourself up, you look disgusting.” He walks out of the room.

Trembling, I put my fingers against my birth canal and pull them back out. Red. It smells like copper.

I can’t help it.

I throw up over myself, and collapse into a dreamless sleep.


	6. Christine

Dara cleaned me up. She wiped the sweat, the blood, the ungodly stains that had formed on my blankets and had curled, like sour milk, on my legs. I remained almost unresponsive, allowing my maid to clean me almost silently.

Shame racked my body as she bought the warm cloth to my raw behind and rubbed at it, not harshly but not in a gentle manner, either.

It wasn’t until a nightdress was pulled down over my head that I finally responded in a manner that did not resemble a child’s doll. I grabbed her hand, pulling Dara close. She appeared shocked, but sat beside my anyway.

“I know a way to stop the ache.” She whispered gently into my ear. I shook. “Tony? What did he do?”

I shook my head. It’s painful think about, his finger is a ghost inside me and I feel bile begin to fill my throat again.

“He said your father gave him permission… Tony, was it a finger?”

I nod.

She sighed gently. “Bless you.”

I doubted blessing me would save my soul now.

 

Mother sat with a grim expression painted onto her delicate features. I feel uneasy, because I could very easily be blamed for any and all accusations Obadiah thrust upon me.

It makes me feel ill.

The very thought of Obadiah churns my stomach, coats my throat with bile and sends a searing pain through my chest. I feel as if though she knows. She must know. She has to.

“Tony, did you ever allow that young Alpha boy to defile you?” She asks me, bracing herself is if my words will strike her down.

I allow a moment to think about my words. We had kissed and held hands – that was defilement of a sorts, surely? But he had been kind and had not hurt me and would have waited until I had grown, until I had been ready.

I decided at that very moment that it is my choice, whether or not I had been defiled by Rhodey.

“No, mother, he never hurt me and he never forced me.” I whispered to her. “He was nice to me… He was my friend!”

My chest heaved, heart pounding; cracking my ribs, forcing the fine splinters to splice through my skin. Had they murdered Rhodey?

I felt a slight give in my lower thigh and I fell back, onto the sofa. There was something covering my neck and my breathing came in a series of short puffs. A hand on my arm. I suppose that the intent was a comforting gesture on my mother’s part, but it did not help. Instead, I yell out, thrashing. I felt my palm make contact with flowery lilac skin. The hand disappears; I had struck my mother and the punishment would be severe.

She grasped me hard and shakes, tears falling down her face. “I knew I should have sent you away to an Omega Commune.” She cried. I stared at her in fear. I do not know the consequences of my actions and dread to find out. “You are wicked and wrong and…” she stopped short, took in a breath, “I love you dearly.”

I let out a sob, hugging her close. “We never did anything, Mother. I can promise you this, never!”

“Lord Stane says that he has mentally, and that the mental innocence is of great import, even more so than the physical.” She toldme, and the monotone drone of her usually chirpy voice only confirmed what I had feared.

Obadiah Stane had convinced my mother that I have been damaged.

“Mother, I promise you, I have not- We kissed, that was all! What danger is there in a kiss?”

“There’s danger in a look, let alone a kiss.” Mother whispered, eyes cast down and face forlorn with guilt.

“What now, Mother?” I asked, knowing of three possibilities.

I would be taken away, re-educated and made into a mindless Omega.

I would be punished severely and father will ensure that I am given to the most destructive of Alphas, an Alpha who would crush my spirit and amputate my hands if given any reason.

I felt my head go light once more at the thought of being added to Obadiah’s list of Omegas. I do not wish to become an empty shell, when I have recently learned how there were others in my situation, shamed and isolated and ready to learn.

I realise Mother is speaking to me, using the same dull tone that came to the forefront of her vocal chords mere seconds ago. “… And they shall keep you until… until Virginia has found a suitable partner.”

“Pardon?” I say, looking up at her with wide eyes.

“You shall be sent away, Tony, to a re-education centre.”

“Where?” I ask.

“Wherever it is Miss Potts has found.”

 _Totleigh Manor,_ a voice in the back of my mind creeps, _where you will be safe_. I know that there is a chance that I must grasp now, an opportunity has arisen.

“Miss Potts found… so it is not with Obadiah?” I ask tentatively, wincing as I wait for the answer.

“Tony, I will say this as a mother and a mother alone; I am not letting you near any Alpha, regardless of their place in our society or their society. You will be with Virginia and other Omegas to learn…”

I think about the Omega that was at Totleigh Manor. Thor. He had moved there to live, and despite his foreign looks he produced a feeling from me, a feeling of guilt. He had been through much, not that I knew at that moment. I wonder now why the world had to make such difficulties for young Omegas. People in general. Rhodey was very much an Alpha who seemed to see past the barrier of gender; why was is harder for others?

“… Virginia has told me that the only Alpha is the master of the land, whom she says is a recluse. You must learn Tony, otherwise Lord Stane may actually get his way-“ She cut herself off which a fearsome snap of the jaw. Guilt ran down her face; my mother had, for the first time, acknowledged the pain and anguish forced onto her, myself and all other Omegas by Lord Stane.

I tentatively touch her shoulder, wishing that speaking my mind wasn’t such a risk. _‘I love Rhodey’_ I would say _‘I love you, too. But I would rather die than be you.’_

 

 

Not one person ever explained to me the etiquette of getting along with others. Truth be told, I would sit sour-faced as a child whilst the Omega children of my father’s associates would rummage through my toys, my clothes, my trinkets. They would violate my world, only to be invited back by my father after declaring he and the dark, blurred associate were good friends and therefore I must be the best of friends with the gremlin children.

Naturally, Dara had tried to tell me after suffering the consequence of such a gremlin child visit that all I had to do was blame the other child of some atrocity and therefore have them removed from my life.

I never really thought about using that power as a child. Whilst not understanding the basics of telling somebody ‘no’, the immense power of being able to have somebody removed from my life was blaringly evil.

It never really stopped my father from using his power for his own needs, however.

Christine, her name was Christine.

An Omega of six tender years, she was lively yet gave a sort of bite with her attitude. She entertained me more than anything; I admired how she freely spoke. ‘That’s an awful coloured dress, I would be ashamed to be seen in it’.

‘Your toys are boring, I like to play pretend!’

That had been the issue; her attitude. Her need to play pretend. I remember when one day, she never turned up to our play date, Mother first explained to me Lord Stane’s role in our society.

“He keeps us safe from outer influences, you see.” She stroked my hair with heavy sigh. She wished my hair was longer. “He punishes those who don’t try their hardest to make sure we’re safe. Lord Stane is like God.”

God. A worthy comparison, I suppose. God has always been a sadist.

I am glad in a sense that I never found my voice, my true voice, until the day I was sent to stay at Totleigh.  It is my fear that helped me survive. Fear is the perfect method of co-operation.

 

Christine, a girl I have not seen in months, years…

 

… A girl that haunts me…

… I could have been her.

Maimed, made to service Alphas who have lost their Omega’s, raped, filled.

Her voice, her attitude, it was misguided in its misery. It led to her, presumably, destruction. A place in Stane’s fortress of fucking Redirection.

I never spoke out until it was safe too.

In many ways, she saved me from my demise.


	7. Dara

Totleigh Manor was a safe-haven. Not many people knew about the place. And those who did, yet had no business knowing, believed the manor was a place of re-education for Omegas who still had hopes of being saved.

Secluded away in the thick foliage, it was a place that people barely ventured to unless they had a particular reason to; supplies were collected from a village a fifteen mile carriage ride away; annual inspections were made short by the never-ending façade that the residents put on; people who lived there rarely left.

I wonder if Mother ever asked my father for more information about the manor?

Skittish and afraid to disturb his soliloquising of his hard day working out deals with the City, she would raise her hand to the level on her nose, a silent indication that she may have more than just a simple to nod to contribute to the evening.

‘Darling Alpha,’ she might begin ‘I wonder what it is exactly they will teach Tony at Totleigh Manor? I hope it is useful and helps him to become an asset of course!’ She would then look down, at the boiled vegetables, still slightly hard in the middle for the texture she claimed to enjoy.

‘It’s where you wanted him to go.’ A gruff reply. A wince and a nod.

‘Of course dear… I just want what is best for our son.’

 

Was my mother frightened when first given to my father? An Alpha of such high prestige; it must have been a lot to take on. She knew she failed him when I was born, afterall.

The Omega only child that can only do wrong.

My father and Obadiah worked together to ensure that my ‘re-education’ was kept strictly as knowledge between themselves, my mother and Dara. It was yet another reason for shame to be brought upon him and as an excuse he told his associates that I was simply at a boarding school in Europe, learning how to run a house smoothly and please an Alpha of the highest standards.

 

Aunt Peggy came to visit me the evening before I was supposed to set off to live at Totleigh. Her face was pale and she looked remorseful. Her hair, usually kept in a tidy tight bun, revealing the sparsely planted beginnings of grey hair was down and wavy; brushed yet not well-kempt.

She sat on my bed, stroking my hair as she hummed a forgotten song. The semantics of nature spring to mind when I think of the song now though I wish, I dearly wish I could remember it. Her voice would lilt even through the simplistic communication of humming; that song was a comfort.

“Your mother told me that Obadiah was in your room, alone… why would you father allow something like that to happen?” She muttered after a while, the room becoming icy. I gulped; she stroked my hair once more. “I’m glad you’ll be away from him. He’s always spoken about ‘wanting’ you… You, Tony, deserve much better than Lord Stane. You deserve better than any other Alpha your father decides is worthy of your affections.”

I looked up, met with her eyes. A fire roared within those oakwood orbs; her need to protect me, to shelter me, to create a sense of justice for me and my stolen innocence.

I love Aunt Peggy.

“I’m going to fucking burn his world down one day, Aunt Peggy.” I whispered, my voice gruff. “I’m going to make him pay for taking Rhodey away from me.”

Her eyes widened and I felt the catching of her breath. She was silent, before licking her lips with a hesitant nod. “You’ll do it splendidly, Tony.” She replied, before kissing my forehead with vigour. “I’ll try to visit you at this… Totleigh place. I cannot promise much but I’ll try. The Alpha who owns it seems to have a lot of sway in the way of politics. I hope you’ll be safe.”

“I hope you’ll be able to see me.” _But I know you won’t._

There was no way Pepper would allow an Agent of the Military to step into the foyer of Totleigh, never mind have an extended visit.

I closed my eyes, squeezing the tight, tight, tighter. I didn’t want to cry, because I had cried enough over Obadiah. I was not going to be another one of his toys.

I was going to destroy him; there was no way I could not succeed.

 

Doctor Bruce Banner was a man who hid himself away. A recluse, as people would reason, Alpha with no social requirements. His money came from a series of essays written about his studies on Omegas.

Though, he also earned a pretty penny through other works; there was a world somewhere that respected Omegas, a world that was not obsessed with stressing the place of an Omega or keeping an Omega oppressed by rules.

It may have been a fantasy world, but it was a world that certainly kept Dr. Banner rich; thus keeping Totleigh Manor open.

I hope I see him again, he was so good to me.

 

My mind keeps reeling back, deep into my past and I cannot seem to keep straight. Yet, this is my story and for once I won’t apologise for not making sense. I hope that, if somebody is reading this, they understand that my journey was one of sacrifice, of suffering. And that those to sacrificed themselves for me understand that I love them dearly.

Pepper couldn’t find out for me what had become of Rhodey. It was best to assume he was dead; any other thought would be worse than that of death. Suffering with the thought of Rhodey bring dead was devastating, but I knew that I had my chance at Totleigh to get ready to avenge his demise. I would make sure the world knew about Rhodey and the unjust way in which he was treated by the powerful ones in our society.

When Pepper came to collect me in the early morning, the deep orange sunbeam rays lighting up her red hair in a flair of hope, only Dara was there to say goodbye.

“You’ll probably be engaged next time I see you, Tony.” She said with red eyes. She wiped them with a swipe of her sleeve, letting out a choking laugh. Her hands, rough from hard labour, ran through my hair. “So you be good and you work hard, but whatever you do, don’t let them kill that spark.” She squeezed my shoulder tight.

“Dara… if you can, please hide my woodwork, my drawings and just anything that Obadiah might use to take me away from Pepper. Please, he’ll hunt the house down when he gets the opportunity. He’s a snake, Dara, a snake that’ll twist any smidgen of evidence into a prop to make me his.” I know that I was pleading, but I knew that Obadiah would go to extremes.

I did not want to be his victim ever again.

“When I bought you that workbench, I knew that you’d use it. It haunted me for days, mind. You getting into trouble because I had been careless; I had nightmares about… What made you want to see that boy, Tony?” She asked, looking serious.

“I… I love him. I just, well… I don’t know.” I shrug, feeling guilty. I gather that she noticed.

“Leave the love life antics to Pepper, you goose.” She swatted my arm playfully. I let out a soft laugh. Like I have said; Dara is a close friend, a great friend, even if society says she cannot be anything other than a maid. “Mother is certainly keeping you on, then?”

“Please do not insult me at such a tender moment, you cheeky thing; this home would fall apart without me!” She laughed heartily, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “I love you, Tony.”

“I love you too… Please don’t forget about the work-“

“I’ll sort it, Tony… Now, go and get in the carriage.” She ordered gently, flicking my nose. I nod, clambering up the steps into the handsome oak travelling carriage, tracing the velvet padding with my forefinger.

Pepper smiled at me, eyes sparkling. “This happened sooner than I anticipated, Tony.” She mused. “Not that I mind; Dr. Banner wants to teach you himself!”

The carriage begins to move away and I watch as the waving image of Dara becomes hidden behind the ever thickening shrubbery that secluded my home from the village.

It was then that Pepper explained to me the plans; she would write to my mother and father about the ‘progress’ I was making, tell them about her search as the Matchmaker of our family for my Alpha. I would write, too, using her advice and her words in order to orchestrate the perfect illusion.

Meanwhile, I would learn with Thor, about the ‘Truth’ – a vague concept within itself that still baffles many.

The truth is always another person’s lie.

We discussed, briefly, the event with Obadiah. How he told her that he would offer good money for me; claim me as his and ensure she would never have to work again.

She told him that, in layman’s terms, he should fuck off and die.

I assume the actual reply was far more courteous.

“He touched you in a way nobody should ever be touched. An Alpha should be caring and loving; something Stane has never been.”

“He took Rhodey away from me, Pepper. He will pay for it.”

“Of course he will. But, first, you must learn how to.” She looked out the carriage window, pushing the thick purple curtain out of the way. A hum quivered out of her throat – she was thinking, formulating, doing what she does and will always do best…

… figuring out how to clean up my mess.

 

Arriving at Totleigh bought with it the same feeling of freedom that came with my first visit; except I knew that inside I would find the stories of Omegas like me.

It did cross my mind that perhaps who I am would be contained on the paper I wrote on, oddly enough.

That perhaps, just perhaps, my journey would become less than heroic.

Oppressed by my own need for freedom; irony at its finest.

Thor opened the door, a large smile plastered on his face. He picked me up in a hug, and I wondered why, in his land, he wasn’t killed for his abnormality.

The tall Omega wasted no time in telling me about his time so far.

“Bruce made bread and it was really bad. He burnt it, but it was nice to soak up in wine in any case!” He chittered, clearly thrilled. “Do you like wine, Tony? Natasha makes her own, it-“

“I doubt Tony has ever had wine, Thor.” Pepper laughed. I felt a blush creep up my neck. It was true; I had not. I felt uncultured despite the fact I knew there would be no true judgement from these individuals.

“Then he must right away!” The foreigner announced, grabbing my hand. I felt dazed.

“Wait, Thor, Tony only just got here. It’s only sensible that I lead him to his room first… why don’t you unload his baggage? Remember not to talk to the carriage driver.” She ordered him. It was subtle, but I noticed the deflation in his shoulders, the slight nod and the soft shuffle to the door with a dejected air about him.

Natasha walked through, hair up in a complicated bun that looked relaxed and serious at the same time; it suited Nat well. She gave me a smile, and the scent of a warm stew followed through with her. “Back so soon?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Pepper really did turn you into one of us, huh?”

“I guess so…” I tapered off, looking around. “It’s really warm in here.” I commented, earning a slight chuckle from Pepper.

“Thor is an interesting person, he was shivering until we raised the temperature.” Pepper gestured towards the communities of candles around the room. “Doctor Banner said to make sure he’s comfortable.” 

I nodded. “What a strange Omega.”

“You can say that again. Very creative, though.” Natasha added as she walked towards me. “He’s a fast learner.”

Pepper gave a quick nod before making a hush gesture. “Behave now, don’t talk about people behind their back!”

Snorting, Natasha placed her lips next to my ear. “He and the Doctor were dancing, she’s jealous that nobody asked her to dance.” She faux-whispered.

Pepper snorted. “Okay, Natasha, whatever you say.”

“Aha, see?” She elbowed my arm. “It’s okay, Pep, we all like you, just not your dancing.”

“I’d dance with you.” I tell Pepper, with a smile on my face. “you’d be my first choice, easy.”

Pepper grinned. “Thank you, Tony…” She stuck her tongue out at Natasha, who looked at my in mock shock.

“Trait-“

Thor walked in with my bags, setting them down effortlessly. He took in a heavy sniff. “That smells amazing, Natasha! Oh, I can’t wait to eat it!”

“Hold on now, it isn’t all for you. Tony eats like a bird, sure, but he still needs some food.”

Pepper took my hand. “Sadly, you won’t be in the same room at last time. Instead, Doctor Banner had us organise your own room.” She explained this to me as we walked up the stairs.

We took a left up the corridor, went up another flight of stairs and travelled once more to the furthest room down; a mahogany door was firmly closed.

With an excited smile, she opened the door.

The room inside smelled of fresh paint, the colour of which was a pale blue. The window, a large circular one that opened on alternative panes, was wide and framed with a pair of net curtains, the pattern of which revealing a series of birds flying in different directions. A sofa, white, was central to the window, decorated in a knitted blanket that read the word ‘courage’.

The bed was wooden, oak, four poster, with dangling muslin. Between two posts that lined up against the wall, the phrase ‘Today I am fighting, tomorrow I am free’ painted in thick black paint.

In one corner of the room stood a workbench, with a rack of tools and materials and decorations. It was much more sophisticated than the one Dara had bought for me; it was a solid piece of wood, with grips and shackles and drawers.

An excited gasp left my throat and Pepper let got of my hand. “I’ll let you look around.” She said, leaving the room and closing the door.

 

I walked to the workbench; slid my fingers across the smooth bench; opened a heavy drawer with a slight heave.

Inside was a box of chocolates, wrapped in a blue ribbon, the colour much like the walls. Alongside the chocolates lay a card.

I take it out and read it:

_‘Dear Tony_

_Forgive me for not being there as you settle into your new home, at least for a few years. I hope you find the room to your liking; I did not want to over step the mark but you deserve to be yourself much like any other person in the world._

_I will see you soon_

_Dr. B. Banner’_

 

I couldn’t help but think to myself, ‘what was the catch?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far. I'm sorry for the long break; I needed it.


	8. Thor Odinson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tries to do Thor's past justice. He takes the time to consider his own position in society.

_Arms hold me tight. I would not be able to escape… but I think I don’t want to? It smells good; wood and warm and ginger and safe. My muscles are soft and pliable._

_A nip at my ear – Alpha is good to me, too good, I want him to love me and keep me safe… Why have I never felt safe before this?_

_“Rhodey…” The voice is soft, slurred and sunken into the goose-feather pillow. A laugh, old and musty. My nose crinkles. The smell is whiskey and cinder toffee. An old smell…_

_Old?_

_My back is suddenly a lot more rigid. The arm is a vice._

_“Not quite, little one.” A voice whispers. A malicious taunt. Obadiah…?_

It’s been a month and, at this point, I think I might be in love with Thor. Platonically of course, but regardless of that he is a person that is easy to love.

“Would you like to go outside with me?” He’s grinning, eyes sparkling, blue and almost electric. My mother would faint if she saw his clothing; a blue low cut shirt, that I believe was probably once part of a dress but had long since been removed with scissors, witch a pair of riding trousers, leather shoes also a part of the ensemble. His breasts, ‘pecs’, are very noticeable.

He’s still grinning at me, teeth white.

I’m sat at on a sofa, upholstered with goose feathers and decorated with blankets and pillows. A pen hangs from my fingers, and a leather-bound book balances precariously on my lap. I stare up at him and he in return stares down.

“Uh, sure, why not?”

 

Outside.

Rain pours like Thor pouring milk on his supper – mere seconds and I’m soaked. My dress absorbs the water like a quenched plant and I begin to shiver. I wonder how Thor is coping; he’s barely wearing any sort of clothing.

My worries are unneeded, however; he stands with a look of tranquillity about him, face tilted towards the clouds, arms outstretched, body glistening, almost.

He looks beautiful.

“It doesn’t rain, um, where I from.” He says, shrugging.

“Where I am from. Oh? It’s rains quite a lot here.”

“I noticed, it just makes me happy… it’s so weird. Water on your body, from the sky!” He spins and almost stumbles but catches himself very quickly. He begins to laugh again, and I can’t quite understand how he can just be _happy_ endlessly.

“You don’t talk much about your homeland.” I say, unsure if what I was saying was appropriate.

“Well… What would you like to know?” He sounds genuinely curious but confused at the same time. I walk towards the paved veranda, sheltered from the rain.

There are flowers blooming, some already turning brown and others, barely unfurled, reaching out to soak up the sun and the rain and the sky.

My fingers lightly brush a tulip, feeling the silk of the petals and firm rigidity of the stem. It feels real. The rain still splatters, and it ends up being Thor that actually takes me under the shelter.

“In my homeland, there’s trees that reach higher than the top of the manor. They’re hard to climb, until you learn to follow grooves; I can climb to the top in mere seconds!”

He beams, proud and confident in his claims.

“Have you ever climbed a tree, Tony?”

“… No, I haven’t really had much of a chance to do stuff like that… I’ve ridden a horse before.”

 

In reality, I had been taken as a medal by father to a summer retreat. The poverty-stricken Omegas that worked on the farms and country homes would often times ride past, sat sideways (the ‘proper’ way), trying to catch the eye of the young, rich Alphas that would stare out of their peripheral.

It was scandalous yet beautiful to me, at the age of seven, to see Omegas, my sex, acting this way. My mother would avert her eyes, shielding herself from the sights.

Yet I would be forgotten. I’d watch the Omegas present themselves, like a selection of fine jewellery. Alphas would give them gestures, and the Omega would either ride back to the stables or lurk around, waiting for a thumbs up and the swish of a wrist. So, I’d watch this strange type of courting before I knew what was happening.

In honesty, all I knew was that I would be matched with an Alpha: what the poor did was a mystery. Despite this, I was aware of stories that involved Omegas from farms, destitute families and orphanages – stories of the Omega being so beautiful their status would rise, and they’d become a lady, or a Princess in some foreign land.

My mother had told me that I would probably end up becoming a lady. ‘If you play your cards right,’ she’d add ‘you could be the lady of your own manor!’

In the grand scheme of things, my mother was not successful in becoming a higher status. My grand-father, a man I never met, was a high-ranking officer. She married into more wealth, but not into the social class. Dara mentioned something once about Obadiah being my mother’s intended Alpha. Perhaps she was too plain?

Perhaps marrying my father was a piece of sympathy, granted at the last moment?

Regardless of this, my mother expected greatness in the form of my body, and consequently she expected to feel proud that she had at least mothered a successful Omega.

I know that somewhere deep down my mother was proud, at least for a while.

She must have been.

 

_“… And when my brother fought, he fought with honour, you know? And my sister, too. They just wanted to teach me what to do…”_

 

It isn’t my story to tell, not in the way he told me that day under the veranda, whilst the rain played in tandem to his tale.

But, since I believe it’s important that he is remembered…

… I’ll share it regardless:

 

Thor Odinson was born a month earlier than he was supposed to be. Despite this, he weighed 14 ounces. The doctors checked his body three times before confirming that he was indeed Omega.

Now, if he had been born into farm work, or poverty, then it is likely that he would have been left in a field to die. Since his father was ruler of his land…

… He was kept alive. His mother loved him unconditionally. His father loved him too. He just knew what was to come, and the fight he’d have to get his Omega son married. Although he had Hela, a strong and capable Alpha daughter…

… it was clear to him that Thor was going to be the special case.

When Thor was a toddler his father bought home a scrawny babe. He hadn’t seen Odin in four months and when man revealed the child, he giggled, petting the dark hair and burbling about being a great sibling.

And thus the two grew together, Loki and Thor, Thor and Loki, the brothers who unsuited physically to their genders.

Thor did not take to Asgardian tradition well; he was often found watching guards on the training grounds, where Loki and Hela would train. Despite his gangly body Loki proved to excel in close-range combat, dodging and deftly confusing opponents.

Hela was near-lethal with her moves, often landing a kick that came in hand with a sickening sound of a crunch. Loki was often too fast, but sometimes she would get the corner of his mouth, top of his knee, the tip of his big toe.

 

“I want to do that!” Thor would exclaim. “I want to do what Loki does, father; I’ll be so good!”

Odin had a head-ache from the non-stop persistency Thor would undertake.

“My boy, are you not happy with your lessons in dancing, and singing and horse-riding? They are worthy hobbies!”

“They might be worthy to some Omegas, but I want to try new things. I’ll always dance and sing and ride-horses… please?”

 

Brunnhilde was chosen to teach Thor basic swordsmanship.

 

Within six months, Thor had begun to develop muscle; he could easily climb trees, disarm Brunnhilde and break the masses of wooden dummies that were used for combat training.

In time, Hela married a young Omega that barely spoke a word. She was petite and pretty and a red head. At night, when Thor would sneak around the castle in search for something new to discover, he would hear cries coming from Hela’s chambers.

He was always quick to scurry away.

 

Brunnhilde had gathered some sort of soft spot for Thor over the years spent training him. Naturally, when the warrior was initially informed that she would be teaching the Omega Prince to fight, she felt annoyed.

But she did her job and soon became fond of the unusual Omega. Thor was a quick learner. He tried hard and cared and seemed to be born to battle. She naturally had gotten into many debates with her fellow warriors about her new job; but after witnessing the young royal leave a four inch gap in a shield the arguments died down.

After three years, the only issue appeared to be the lack of suitors.

Odin tried, of course he tried. Princes, Kings, Lords, Dukes; all had been invited to the castle. All had left soon after meeting the then 6 foot Omega.

Thor never seemed bothered. He spent most of his time with his friends. Though Odin had a slight suspicion that his son was perhaps slightly too close to the Warrior Sif – he chose not to comment and, instead, kept a close eye on their relationship.

Not that he had anything to worry about.

 

“Loki, this is dangerous.” Thor whispered as he watched his younger brother pick up a dragon-steel daggar, the cool metal shining against the fire that roared in the hearth. The Alpha let out a snort.

“Stop being such a coward.”

“I’m not a coward, I’m just not stupid.” He replied, elbowing the lanky Alpha. Loki huffed. “Why would you even want to mess with the Valkyrie, anyway?”

“Because, Thor, they walk around like they own the palace. And they don’t if anything, this palace should be mine.” Thor looked around, eyes wide.

“What if Hela heard you, moron?!” He hissed, hitting the back of his head. Loki jutted forward, before laughing.

“She’s going to destroy herself before she even gets close to being Queen. I won’t let her, anyway. It’s my throne.”

“Loki…”

“Shut up, Thor… come on, get up. We need to get a move on before your friends-“

“Loki, you said yesterday that, well, that when Hela takes over the throne, she’ll kick me out of the kingdom.” He whispered.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Well, obviously she will. She isn’t as kind as father. She doesn’t want you around, Thor. You’d be a nuisance – I mean, you are anyway. Now come on.”

“Loki? If you were King, then would you send me away?”

The Alpha stopped, shoulders stiffening. “How could I send you away? Who else would I have to annoy?” He spoke curtly, quickly. “Now come on, you big lug.”

 

Loki, despite his stoic and unfriendly front, cared about his older brother. The two of them together had challenged ideas on what makes an Omega an Omega and Alpha an Alpha. They had trained together, and even though he knew his older sibling could pick him up and throw him if wanted to, they trusted one another.

_‘He’ll be a great compromise for taking command of militia.’_

Loki was no idiot. He studied, knew the rules of the war and compromise. Thor wouldn’t be lucky enough to be the Wife of a kindly young noble Alpha. He wouldn’t be looked after, he wouldn’t be allowed to train or have fun.

_‘There’s people, you know… A Lord Stane that likes challenges…’_

Thor was still an Omega, he had gone through all the relative steps. Hela didn’t want him in the castle. She wouldn’t have use for an Omega like him.

_‘He’d be a decent present, if I show him correctly.’_

So, it was decided.

Loki was going to be king.

 

 

Odin’s funeral was in the summer, when the lilies and the tulips danced in the low breeze. Trees created shade, reaches of shadow in the high sun.

Frigga sat with Thor, stroking her son’s arm as the King was buried, body lowered into the ground. Loki stood next to Hela, arms folded. He traced the curve of the smirk on the oldest sibling’s face. He had his hardships with Odin, that was for sure… but the death had bought the kingdom into mourning.

“Loki, talk to the Meister. There’s going to be some changes.” She ordered.

As she walked away, Brunnhilde took the opportunity. With a stern tug, she took Loki by the wrist. Her eyes were wide. “What are we going to do, Prince?”

“Make sure she doesn’t get on that throne, of course. Does mean you’re swearing allegiance to me, Valkyrie?”

“I don’t have much choice. We both know she’ll ruin this kingdom. Do you really want to let Asgard fall? And we both know that Thor will be traded off for something as stupid as a shipment of crossbows, you’ll be made Head of Foreign Exchange and sent away, probably to Midgard or some other wreck of a place. And there’s no doubt she’ll expect us, me, to fight in battles that don’t need to be fought.” She cracked her knuckles, looking down. “So, if you have a plan, Prince Loki… I’ll follow your lead.”

Loki smirked. “Oh, Brunnhilde, I always have a plan.” He winked, walking off.

 

It wasn’t much of a surprise that Civil War broke out. Hela was ruthless; ordering public executions, burning down the homes of those she disliked. The Valkyrie swore to fight for the Princes of Asgard after fifty warriors were murdered by Hela’s own hands for ‘conspiracy’.

Corpses burnt along the streets, homes bordered up, blood, congealed and thick amongst the pavements.

Brunnhilde led the Valkyrie into battles of woe and loss; Loki planned attacks, sneaky and cunning in their layout.

Thor wanted to fight. He wanted to show-off… but he was kept in a watch tower far from the battle with an older man with the fiercest eyes one could ever see.

“Heimdell, let me out, please! I know I can help!” Thor would shout, body slumped against the wall.

“You know I cannot, Thor. Please, stop being so chi-“

“No, Heimdell, please don’t call me that. I know what I am and who I am, but I _know_ I can do so much more. I am strong, Heimdell!” Thor was breathing heavily, cheeks flushed, eyes wild.

“I know you are, I know. But… Things will be hard for you, Thor Odinson. For a long time. But I know you’ll find your place.”

“I want my place to be in the Valkyrie.” He sighed. Heimdell rubbed Thor’s arm.

“I know… but some people are meant for more.”

 

Winds were high on top of the castle watch tower. The sea could be heard crashing against the stone – Hela stood at the edge, panting for breath.

“And you dared to betray me, Loki? Barely even part of this family and you think you can steal the throne?!” Loki hung from Hela’s grip by his hair, body limp and eyes darting around. “What is it you wanted to achieve? You think you’re better than me?”

Thor growled as he tried to escape the chains around his body. “Loki!?”

The younger brother looked over, shaking his head. “Quiet, Thor.”

“Hela, please! He’s your brother! Please!”

The eldest Alpha let out a terse laugh. “Oh Thor… can’t you see? Family means nothing. Poor father, slipping into that coma. If the fool hadn’t gotten too comfortable then he would have known to check for poison.”

At that, Loki began to struggle again, hosting himself up enough to kick the Queen in the chest. Her footing wobbled, edging her closer to the ocean and rock below.

“I was going to let you say ‘goodbye’ to our brother but now I think not…”

Thor let out a scream as Hela threw Loki off the edge, letting her youngest sibling fall into the rocks and waves below. “Why?! You’ll die for this!” He roared, struggling against his restraints.

Hela walked over, running her fingers through her hair. She looked down at the Omega and scoffed. “Our father indulged you far too much, brother. Your beloved Valkyrie bodyguard fled, your brother is dead and Heimdell is in hiding.”

“I’ll kill yo…” With a thud, Thor was knocked out by a heavy boot to the face.

 

“I can read and write, I can fight and climb, I am Thor Odinson, Prince of Asgard…”

The cell was cold and damp. Thor lived off the crust of bread. He knew his muscle mass was wearing down, despite his attempts to stay fit. He smelled like faeces and sweat. The hay stuck to his body and jabbed his flesh.

“… I am Thor Odinson, Prince of Asgard… I can fight…. I am Thor…. I can…”

 

Thor was sleeping when the sound of metal on metal and clattering on the floor awoke him. He jumped up, ready to fend off the attacker. The sound of footsteps crept close, as did the smell of smoke and the sound of heavy breathing.

“Who goes there?”

A figure slowly came into view. “A friend. Come on now, let’s get you to safety, Prince.”

Heimdell.

 

Two days in the back of a farmer’s cart, covered by fleece and leather and sheep skin. Heimdell told Thor at night about the unrest within the general population.

“The people will protect you, Thor… It’s the Valkyrie that have been proving unreliable.”

“Have you heard from Brunn?” The Omega asked eagerly. “Or Sif… or anybody?”

Thor felt his heart tear a little bit more at the reply. “Where are we going. You, Thor Odinson…. You’re going to Midgard. With a man called Dr. Bruce Banner. He’s waiting at the docks…”

“You aren’t coming?”

“There’s still unrest. I can’t leave until Hela has been defeated.”

“Then… then I should stay too, and help!”

“Oh Thor…” Heimdell shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “You truly are high-spirited. No, you must go with Bruce Banner. I promise you, Thor, you can return one day. And perhaps, well, perhaps you can be ruler.”

Eyes widened in shock, mouth gaped opened. Thor shook his head. “But…”

“Just trust me, Thor.”

 

Thor told me that he felt a connection to Dr. Banner the day they met, in the docks of an Asgardian fishing port. The man had been awkward at first, quiet too… and it wasn’t until the third day on the two-week voyage that the Doctor actually began to speak properly to the Asgardian refugee. It seemed right, in all honesty, to imagine the Doctor being so silent.

Of course, many details of the Asgardian Civil War were changed and protected; ‘Queen’ Hela was an influential power and consequently, made finding out the details of the war difficult to read without great passages about Hela being inserted.

I love Thor; I hope he’s well.

He deserves it.

 

Pepper called us in after around an hour of talking. She chided us lightly for the state of our clothes, though we knew she didn’t really mind. She herself looked tired – she had been to the city for a few days and had not quite settled back into life at the manor.

Natasha had been scarce as of late, too; leaving meal times early so she could get back to her ‘work’. Thor had taken to cooking (altered) Asgardian meals – hearty pies and extravagant salads with star-cut carrots and spiralled tomatoes. He enjoyed it, especially when Bruce joined us.

This time everyone was present, and the atmosphere was familial. The friendly buzz of chatter and laughter rand around the room – singing in tandem with the hearth at roar.

“… And Loki had but a pinecone under the pillow!” Thor exclaimed, laughing loudly before taking a large bite out of his potatoes, the food virtually just a holder for half a stick of butter. “Oh, father was mortified but it was funny!”

“Your brother sounds like quite the trickster.”

“Yes he i- was. He was a lot of fun, even if he was annoying.” Thor look down for a moment, before laughing again. “Tony, it must have been so relaxing, having no siblings.”

He turns his gaze onto me, toothy grin plastered on his face. “No arguing over toys or anything!”

Tony shrugged, nibbling a slice of bread. “I spent a lot of time with Dara… if not her, my father has friends who had Omega daughters. They annoyed me though. So… Omega-y.”

“That doesn’t always have to be a bad thing, though. I mean, as long as they’re safe and happy…”

“Nobody ever seemed really happy. It all felt fake. So fake.”

Pepper put her hand on my shoulder. “If they don’t know anything else, then it’s pretty real for them.”

 

There was a time when I think I enjoyed being just an Omega. Where the lack of control meant there was chance of things going wrong.

And I always manage to fuck things up. Somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm.
> 
> Hi?
> 
> University sure is something. I'm learning lots, I think I just need to learn to how TIME-MANAGE GODDAMNIT

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you.


End file.
